by Elena Forbes
She heard the main entrance door of the house slam shut below. She went out onto the landing and looked over the banisters. Alison, her neighbour, was struggling with her key in the lock of her flat front door.
‘Sorry to bother you,’ Eve called out, starting quickly down the stairs towards her. ‘I wondered if you’d let anybody into the house in the last few hours.’
Alison looked up and shook her head breathlessly. She was dressed in a dark grey tracksuit and mud-spattered trainers, her face bright pink and glistening with sweat. ‘I’ve been out most of the day. Let me ask Kelly. She’s been in bed with a cold.’ Alison disappeared inside for a moment. When she came back she looked a little worried. ‘She says someone called a couple of hours ago. He said he was an emergency plumber, from the landlord, that your boiler was on the blink. Is anything wrong?’
‘He wasn’t from the landlord.’
As Eve spoke, Kelly appeared in the hall, behind Alison, shorter and plumper, wrapped up tightly in a towel dressing gown, with a woollen scarf tied tightly around her neck. ‘I wasn’t dressed so I spoke to him over the intercom,’ she said in a hoarse voice. ‘I had a peek at him through the front window. He knew your name. He showed me some sort of photo ID. It looked pretty official.’
‘You let him in?’
She shrugged sheepishly. ‘He asked if he could wait for you inside, as it was raining. I’m really, really sorry if I’ve done anything wrong.’
‘It’s OK. Don’t worry. What did he look like?’
‘He was wearing overalls and heavy boots. I’m pretty sure he had a toolbox with him. I assumed he was kosher.’
‘What sort of age and build?’
She frowned, as though trying to picture it all again. ‘Small, wiry, in his twenties, short black hair, olive skin.’
The basics certainly fitted Dan’s description of the man he had disturbed in the 4Justice office the night before. ‘Anything else you remember?’
‘He spoke good English but he had an accent.’
‘You mean foreign?’
She nodded. ‘Eastern European, maybe, although I’m not very good at telling. He can’t have been up there long, though. No more than ten minutes, I think. I heard the front door slam when he left. It always makes such a noise. I’m so sorry, Eve. I just wasn’t thinking.’
‘Really don’t worry. Nothing’s missing. But if either of you see him again, call me right away, will you?’
THIRTY-THREE
Eve pulled up in the empty public car park at Avebury, opposite the gift shop where Annie Shepherd worked. She had arranged to meet Annie at ten o’clock, but she was early and the shop was still shut up and dark. She had caught a train from Paddington to Swindon first thing that morning, then taken a taxi to the cottage. Hoping to avoid seeing anybody, she had rushed inside, quickly cleared up the few things she had left behind, and put them all in the boot of her car. As she did so, she noticed that the Sean Farrell file had gone. Maybe now they would leave her alone.
The wind blew clouds of rain across the sodden fields and circle of ancient stones, which looked like shadowy giants in the mist. She sat with the engine running, listening to the rain drum on the roof. What was usually a soothing sound made her feel on edge. She turned on the radio to drown out the sound, letting the burble of voices wash over her, but her thoughts kept turning to Mickey’s flash drive. What was so important about it? She had picked up a couple of voicemails earlier that morning, one from Alan Peters saying that Duran was asking for an update. It was bad enough being in any way answerable to a man like him; worse still, she had nothing to tell him. The other was from her solicitor, wanting to set up another meeting as soon as possible with her barrister to prepare for the disciplinary hearing. She had managed to put it all out of her mind temporarily but time was running out for her, as well as for Sean Farrell. She had a week, at best, to get what she needed from Duran. The old doubts resurfaced. Could she trust him? Did he really have evidence that she had been set up and, if so, would he give it to her, even if she were unable to fulfil her side of the bargain? Worse still, she was no further forwards in finding out who had raped her or why. The sick feeling in her heart, the rising swell of emotions, which she had tried so hard to keep at bay, was pressing in on her more than ever. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back and squeezed the bridge of her nose to stop the tears. She mustn’t give into it. She had to keep going, just for a little longer.
She heard a car coming along the lane behind her. She opened her eyes and saw it pull up right outside the gate to the shop. Engine and headlamps off, a woman jumped out and, with her shoulders hunched and head ducked low against the rain, she ran up to the door and unlocked it. She disappeared inside and a moment later started raising blinds and switching on lights. Eve gave her a couple of minutes to sort things out, then turned off the engine, climbed out of her car and sprinted across the road. A series of little bells jingled loudly as she pushed open the door. It was cold inside, the air pungent with the stale odour of incense. For a moment, it took her right back to her series of childhood homes, where her mother was always burning joss sticks and scented candles, probably to mask the smell of dope which usually followed whichever boyfriend was in residence.
‘We’re not open yet,’ a woman’s voice called out shrilly from the back of the shop.
‘Annie, it’s me. It’s Eve.’
There was a pause, then Annie shouted back, ‘Right. I’ll be with you in a mo.’
The low-ceilinged room was filled floor to ceiling with shelves of crystals, fossils and Celtic-style souvenirs, wrapping paper and cards, and books on Wiltshire chalk horses, crop circles, local guide books, astrology and tarot. Tall glass cabinets stood against one wall full of more crystals, ornamental daggers and letter openers, what appeared to be carved wizards’ wands, as well as silver jewellery and knick-knacks. A moment later, Annie emerged from a room at the back of the shop, with a full mug of something hot. She was dressed in jeans and clumpy, brown, rubber-soled boots, and an oversized jade-green cardigan with a shawl collar and huge, chunky mother-of-pearl buttons.
‘You want a coffee?’ she asked, putting her drink down carefully on the counter beside the till.
‘I’m fine,’ Eve said, not fancying the look of it and not wanting to waste time.
Annie went over to the entrance door, where she flipped the sign from ‘closed’ to ‘open’, then came back to the counter, where she lit a large, pink candle. She looked to be in her early forties, a few years older than Jane McNeil would have been if she were still alive. Her dark brown hair was threaded with grey and knotted in a loose bun. But the white streak at the front was still very noticeable and some sort of tattoo peeped out from beneath the edge of her sleeve on the back of her hand, just as Steve Wilby had described.
They sat down in a couple of chairs behind the counter and Eve explained about Sean Farrell’s application to the CCRC.
‘I dunno know how I can help,’ Annie said, when she had finished. ‘I talked to the police when it happened and there’s nothin’ much I can add to that.’ The West Country burr Eve had heard on the phone was even more pronounced in person.
‘But you knew Jane,’ Eve said, catching the slightly defensive tone and wanting to put her at ease. ‘I’m just trying to get an idea of what she was like as a person.’
Annie shrugged. ‘I just knew her from work.’
Eve decided to start with the basics. ‘Who else was in the office, in those days?’
‘Just me, Jane, Sally Michaels … that’s Tim’s wife. She used to do a lot of the client stuff before Tim’s death.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘Melissa was there on and off, and Helen …’
‘Who was she?’
‘She used to help Tim with the entries, but she left a month or so before Jane went missing. Then there was Susan …’
‘Is that Susan Wright?’
‘Yeah. She came in once a week to do the books.’
‘She apparently saw Sean Farrell outside Jane’s cottage the night of the party.’
Annie took a sip of coffee. ‘So she said.’
Eve looked at her curiously. ‘She didn’t see him?’
‘I’m sure she saw someone, I just don’t think she should’ve been so positive ’bout it being Sean.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Well, her eyesight wasn’t that great, poor love.’
‘If she wasn’t sure, why did she tell the police that it was Sean?’ Eve asked, wondering why Dan hadn’t picked up on this detail.
‘I suppose ’coz she thought it was ’im. If you ask me, she sort of talked herself into it. Once she’d said she saw Sean, they were all on her like a pack of hounds and it was difficult going back.’
‘There was nothing malicious in it? She didn’t have it in for Sean?’
‘Nah. Anyways, they had other evidence against him, or so I was told. And maybe she did see him.’ She opened her eyes wide and gave another shrug.
Susan Wright wouldn’t be the first, or the last, unreliable witness, Eve thought, pressurized into giving the police what they thought they wanted to hear. But it was a shame Farrell’s barrister hadn’t cross-examined her more forcefully, or done his homework about her eyesight. It was yet another piece of circumstantial evidence against Sean Farrell that was questionable.
‘Do you know where I can find Susan?’
‘’Fraid you’re too late. She dropped dead of a heart attack a few years back.’
Eve tried to hide her disappointment. There was no way now of getting Susan to retract her statement, although it wouldn’t have been enough on its own to persuade the CCRC to take up the case.
‘I understand you drove past the cottage a bit before Susan,’ Eve said.
‘That’s right. The lights were on so I thought Jane was in.’
‘You didn’t notice anybody hanging around?’
Annie shook her head.
‘Did you ever see Jane outside work at all?’
‘Once or twice, maybe, with some of the others from the yard, but we didn’t really socialize much.’
‘What was your impression of her?’
Annie hesitated, as though choosing her words carefully. ‘She just got on with the job and she kept herself to herself most of the time.’
‘Did you like her?’
‘I’m sorry she’s dead, if that’s what you mean.’
‘But you didn’t actually like her?’ Eve insisted.
Annie was silent for a moment, her lips forming into a tight pout. ‘I didn’t take to her, if I’m honest. She thought she was above us all, or at least that’s the way it come across. I’m sorry ’bout what happened to her, but she was a sly little thing.’
‘Sly?’
‘Secretive.’
‘What about?’
‘Well, we had no idea she had a thing goin’ on with Sean. Then he started hangin’ around the office like a lost calf and someone said she’d dumped him. I was amazed. I didn’t even know they’d been goin’ out.’
Eve studied Annie’s pale, pinched face for a moment, thinking that she couldn’t blame Jane at all for wanting to keep her private life to herself, particularly in the claustrophobic atmosphere of such a small office. She also remembered what Grace had said about Jane disappearing off to see an unknown man. Maybe she had just wanted a bit of space from prying eyes, or maybe there was more to it than that.
‘You knew both of them, at least superficially. Why do you think she went out with Farrell in the first place?’
‘Sex, money, something to do to pass the time of day, I guess.’
She spoke as though it were normal. The idea that Jane might have been lonely didn’t seem to have occurred to her. ‘After she broke up with Sean, did she see anyone else, that you know of?’
‘She certainly didn’t confide in me.’
‘But you introduced her to a man called Steve Wilby, who worked at the Honda garage.’
‘We went out for a drink. That’s all.’ Her expression shut down.
Wilby had described Annie as being ‘narked’ that he had preferred Jane over her, and Eve wondered if jealousy was still clouding her judgement even after so many years. She also wondered if Annie knew that Jane had seen Wilby a few times after that night, then decided it was probably another thing Jane would have sensibly kept to herself.
‘But you told the police about him, didn’t you?’
Annie met her gaze defiantly. ‘I had to. Didn’t I? But they checked him out and that was the end of it.’
‘Were you surprised Sean was found guilty of her murder?’
‘The police and the court did their job, I guess.’
‘So you’ve never had any doubts about it?’
‘At the time, no.’ She put her head to one side thoughtfully. ‘But now everybody’s askin’ questions, makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’
‘What about the two girls she shared the cottage with? Was Jane friends with them?’
‘You mean Grace and Holly?’ She shook her head. ‘They didn’t get on.’
‘Any particular reason?’
‘The usual female stuff. Always some stupid bloke, or other, hangin’ around in the background causing trouble.’
‘Anything else? It doesn’t matter how trivial.’
Annie sighed and took another mouthful of coffee. ‘Well, Jane never stopped goin’ on about the mess the other two made. She was a bit OCD. Used to give us all a hard time about leaving dirty coffee mugs in the sink or hanging our coat on the wrong peg.’
‘I’ve spoken to Grace, so tell me about Holly? I understand she was sacked a few days before Jane went missing.’
‘She had it coming. She was always turning up late, or calling in sick whenever she had a hangover and couldn’t be bothered gettin’ out of bed. You know what young girls are like.’ She gave Eve a knowing look. ‘She thought she could charm her way out of anythin’, that one, but she’d pushed it too far.’
‘I thought there was more to it than that.’
‘Well, some said she’d been up to no good with Harry, as well as one of the young lads. I was never much into all the yard gossip, and being sat in the office all day, it was always fourth- or fifth-hand, but there were certainly fireworks that morning.’
‘Go on,’ Eve said. ‘It was ten years ago. Nobody’s going to mind now.’
Annie drained her mug and plonked it down on the counter. She pulled the sleeves of her cardigan over her hands and folded her arms tightly across her chest. ‘Well, I remember Holly stomping into the office, bold as brass, asking for Tim, saying she wouldn’t take no orders from Melissa. She was effing and blinding, like we wasn’t there. But Tim was out somewhere for the day, so in the end we had to call Harry. He paid her off and got rid of her …’
‘I thought it was Melissa who paid her off,’ she said, remembering the odd conversation between Harry and Melissa at the dinner table. She was curious that Annie’s account differed in this small detail to what Melissa had told her.
‘No. I remember very clearly it was Harry. Even if there was something goin’ on between the two of them, he sent her packin’ good and proper that day. That was the last we heard of her, ’til some poor sod of a trainer called in to ask for a reference. And blow me down if Harry didn’t give her one.’ She raised her thin eyebrows meaningfully.
‘Do you know how I can get in touch with Holly?’
Annie shook her head. ‘Haven’t a clue. Sorry.’
‘Do you remember the Christmas party?’
‘Course I do. I had to go over it for the police many times.’
‘Did you see Jane there?’
‘I saw her at the beginning, when we were settin’ up the tables. But I hadn’t time to keep an eye out for her after that. We all just got on with what we had to do and I didn’t notice she’d gone until someone said she was sick. I remember thinking it was very odd …’ As she let the word hang, a sharp look came i
nto her eyes.
‘In what way?’
‘Well, what I did see of her, she seemed to be spending a lot more time talkin’ to the guests, than helpin’ out. She didn’t look like someone who was sick, to me, I can tell you.’
‘Who was she talking to?’
‘I don’t remember. But she was popular with some of the owners – the male owners, if you get my drift.’
‘A couple of the owners called her mobile the week before she died.’
‘Doesn’t surprise me. As I said, she was a sly one. I remember her going out of the office more than once to take a private call and she’d walk round outside with her phone in her lunch break, like she had something special goin’ on.’
‘You make it sound as though a racing yard’s a hot bed of sex and intrigue.’
Annie’s mouth cracked into a funny, lopsided smile. ‘You wouldn’t be far wrong there. It’s the horse world really, too much testosterone and long hours and all those empty-headed young girls.’