Requiem

by Celina Grace

  Amy shook her head. “I told you, I only saw her with him a handful of times. Once, outside the school gates, she got into his car. And once in town. They were going into a pub.”

  “Which one?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember. Just some dive, nowhere nice.”

  “Where was this pub?”

  “On Castle Street, I think. I’d never actually been there myself.” She cast up her eyes to the ceiling. “Elodie always did like slumming it.”

  The words, spoken in her beautiful RP accent, sounded even more disdainful than Amy had probably meant them to. Kate could see Theo’s brows drawing down and knew that Amy had lost her admirer. Arrogant little bitch. Even as Kate was thinking it, she was chastising herself inwardly for using the words.

  Kate let the silence draw out just a moment too long for comfort. It was a technique she’d seen Anderton use to effect more than once. Then she asked another question.

  “Can you tell us something about Elodie herself, Amy? She’s still a mystery to us. Her parents don’t seem to have the first clue about what she was up to.”

  Amy looked at her, wide-eyed and innocently.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you ever see Elodie take drugs?”

  The beautiful, wide eyes blinked.

  “Drugs? Elodie?” Amy’s gaze dropped away. “No. No, I didn’t.”

  “Did Elodie ever sell you any drugs?” asked Kate, bluntly.

  “No,” said Amy. She gave her hair an indignant toss.

  “Really?” said Kate. “You won’t get into trouble for telling me the truth.”

  Amy looked at her directly.

  “Elodie never sold me any drugs. I swear on my mother’s life.”

  Kate held her gaze.

  “Never, Amy?”

  “I told you, no. Drugs are for losers.” Amy tossed her head again. “We don’t have that sort of thing around here.”

  “Balls, they don’t,” said Theo after the interviews, when they were walking back to the car and discussing what they’d heard.

  “I agree with you,” said Kate. “I’m pretty sure Amy’s lying. She’s got the faux-naivety thing down quite nicely though. I’ll give her credit for being quite a good actress.”

  “We’re still no nearer finding out who this older guy is.”

  Kate shrugged. “We know that Amy did actually see him. We can ask around at the pub she talked about. If we manage to get a name, we might be able to pull up a photograph.”

  Back at the station, Kate was caught up in the reams of paperwork that she’d been neglecting. She barely had time to grab a canteen sandwich and a hurried cup of tea, let alone have time to do any more thinking. After three hours of solid desk work, she stretched, yawned and sat back in her chair, grimacing at the ache in her shoulders. Opening her desk drawer to grab a fresh pen, she caught sight of the paper that Olbeck had given her that morning: Jay’s statement. She took it up and read through it carefully, noting particularly what Jay had said he had been doing between the crucial hours during which the murder had taken place. Nothing very illuminating. He’d apparently been with one of the band members—the singer, Tom Hough—and they seemed to have spent a couple of hours wandering around Arbuthon Green, smoking cigarettes and ‘losing track of time.’ There was no mention of Elodie after she’d left the pub with her older companion. Kate frowned, thinking hard, tapping the paper on her desk. Then she made up her mind.

  Anderton’s office door was shut. This was so unusual that Kate stopped, momentarily wrong-footed. Of course, he shut the door when he had a meeting with one or more of the upper echelons of the police hierarchy. Kate bent awkwardly down to see if she could see more than one pair of feet beyond the opaque section of glass that ran along his office wall. Nothing. Was he even in? It was late—perhaps he’d left already. She knocked, hesitantly at first, and then louder when there was no response.

  “Come in,” was the quiet response to her second knock. Kate popped her head around the door. Anderton was sitting at his desk and for the strangest moment, Kate had the impression that he’d just raised his head from his hands.

  “Yes, Kate?”

  “I’ve got some more information for you regarding the case, sir,” she said a little nervously. She hadn’t really planned out what she was going to say. For a moment, she wished she’d gone away without knocking and left her revelation for another day. Anderton was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t read.

  “You’ve found Elodie’s boyfriend?”

  “Not yet, sir, no. We’re further forward there, a bit. I wanted to tell you about something…” Kate hesitated, feeling something like a tremor of unease, a premonition of how this conversation would go. Then she plunged on.

  Anderton said nothing as she told him of the picture her brother had painted, how the crime scene had reminded her of the picture but that it had to be coincidence, particularly as the body had actually been found in the river. How Jay and Elodie were friends but nothing more than that. How she had wondered whether it was even worth mentioning but thought she should for completeness. Anderton still said nothing. By now, Kate was gabbling, filling up the silence and feeling the metaphorical temperature in the room drop from neutral to icy to twenty below freezing.

  Eventually she managed to stop herself speaking. There was a long moment of silence before Anderton opened his mouth.

  When he did finally speak, his voice was ominously quiet.

  “Why have you taken days to tell me this, DS Redman?”

  At the use of her full formal title, Kate realised that Anderton was furious. She tried to speak calmly, hiding the fact that her heart was beating fast.

  “I didn’t think it was particularly important sir. I’m sorry—”

  Anderton still spoke in that ominously quiet voice.

  “Your brother painted a picture that closely resembles the crime scene of our murder victim—your brother, who was one of the last people known to have seen Elodie Duncan alive. Your brother, who by all accounts is infatuated with the victim. You knew all this days ago—and you didn’t think it was particularly important?”

  Kate swallowed. She knew she was, conversationally at least, one step away from plunging over a precipice.

  “I…when I found that the body had been pulled from the river—it had to have been a coincidence—”

  The ground crumbled beneath her. Anderton catapulted himself up from his chair, leaning over his desk to shout into her face.

  “Coincidence, my arse! You kept this from me deliberately, Redman. You were protecting your brother—”

  “I wasn’t,” gasped Kate, fighting the urge to run from the room.

  “Don’t lie to me—”

  “I told him to make a statement! I, I encouraged him to come forward—”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”

  “I—I didn’t—”

  “Why?”

  Kate shut her eyes for a moment, unable to help it. She shook her head, unable to answer.

  Anderton sat back down, breathing heavily. After a moment, he spoke quietly, but with an added, hissing emphasis.

  “I don’t care if it was your brother who did this. I wouldn’t care if it was your son.”

  Kate flinched as if he’d slapped her. What was worse, after the initial shock of the words he’d used, was the realisation that he’d said them deliberately to hurt her; he had used the words he knew would cause her maximum pain.

  Silence fell. After a moment, Anderton reached for the telephone on his desk. Kate kept her eyes on the floor, unable to look him in the face.

  “Jerry,” said Anderton in the receiver. “I’m swearing a warrant for the arrest of Jason Redman. I want him picked up and brought back here to answer some questions about Elodie Duncan’s murder.”

  “No!” said Kate, unable to help herself. “It wasn’t him! He wouldn’t do it—”

  Anderton ignored her.

  “Quick a
s you can, Jerry, thank you. That’s all for now.” He put the receiver down.

  Kate dug her fingers into her leg, willing herself not to cry. When she could trust her voice, she asked, “Can I sit in on the interview, sir?”

  “Are you actually insane? Do you not see how inappropriate that would be?”

  Kate did see it, of course she did. She nodded, eyes down. “What about Mark?”

  “Don’t make me laugh. You probably roped him into not saying anything too.”

  Kate gasped, stung into indignation by the unfairness of that remark. “He knew nothing about it, nothing.”

  “So you say. God help us, it’s come to this that I can’t trust my own officers.”

  Kate stood up, trembling. She’d made a mistake, but she was human. Jay was her brother. She’d never known Anderton like this. He could be brusque and demanding—but he’d never before been cruel. He’d never before been unfair.

  “I am truly sorry, sir,” she said. “I made a mistake and for that I apologise. But I was not trying to shield my brother, and I am not someone that you can’t trust. And neither is Mark. And you know that. You know that, sir.”

  Anderton looked at her, expressionless.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Kate asked, and there was real puzzlement and concern in her voice, something that caused Anderton’s granite face to flicker.

  He leant forward and put his face in his hands.

  “Get out,” he said, his voice muffled by his fingers.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kate walked back to her desk. Oddly, she no longer felt like crying. It was as if she’d been blasted numb, as if she had walked away from a serious accident apparently unscathed. But deep within her, something had been badly damaged. She sat down at her desk carefully.

  She couldn’t think about Jay yet. Whenever he came into her mind, it was his younger face that she remembered, the face of the little boy she’d loved and cared for over so many years. The thought of him being arrested twisted something deep inside her. Would he run or try to run? Would they handcuff him or would he come quietly? Was he guilty? She mimicked Anderton, putting her face in her hands to try and block out the thought.

  Someone put a warm hand on her shoulder and she jumped.

  “What’s up?” said Olbeck, quietly.

  Kate shook her head. Over Olbeck’s shoulder, she could see the clock on the wall, its hands pointing to eight o’clock.

  “Are you knocking off soon?” she asked.

  Olbeck was regarding her with a worried look on his face. “I was,” he said absently. “Why, are you heading home?”

  Kate nodded. She thought of her silent house, Jay’s things in the spare bedroom, perhaps a sign of a struggle.

  “Why don’t you come home with me?” she said. “Come and have dinner at my place.”

  “Well,” said Olbeck, “I did sort of have something planned—”

  “Please.” Don’t leave me on my own.

  Olbeck looked at her appraisingly. Then he nodded. “Okay. Why not?”

  As soon as he’d agreed, Kate felt guilty, guilty and ashamed of her own weakness.

  “Oh, it’s okay…if you’ve got something planned—”

  Olbeck patted her shoulder again. “S’alright,” he said. “I don’t like him much anyway, to be honest. Might do me good to have a quiet night in.”

  “Thanks,” said Kate, gratefully.

  “Tell me all about it on the way home.”

  “Thanks,” said Kate again, and she meant it from the bottom of her heart.

  They bought takeaway Chinese on the way home and stopped off at the corner shop for a bottle of wine (for Olbeck) and a bottle of elderflower cordial (for Kate). There was a small section of DVDs for hire in one aisle of the shop and Olbeck stopped in front of the display.

  “Let’s get a film.”

  Kate cast a disinterested eye over the plastic cases. Then she realised that watching something mindless might actually take her mind of the terrible images that kept circulating.

  “What do you want to watch?” she asked, praying he wouldn’t choose something crime-related or anything gory.

  Mark ran a finger along the cases and picked one out.

  “How about this? British rom-com. Something fluffy.”

  “Fine,” said Kate. She saw once again Anderton’s face as he buried it in his hands. She blinked and that image was replaced by one of Jay in a police cell, young and small and scared. Stop thinking about it. She realised she was staring into space. Olbeck was already at the counter, paying for the DVD.

  Once they were back at her house, she turned on the oven and put the takeaway containers inside it to keep warm. Then she told Olbeck to follow her and led him up to the hallway cupboard on the landing upstairs, where she’d stored the painting.

  “Here,” she said. “What do you think? I mean, really think?”

  Olbeck took it from her silently and regarded it intently. She watched his face, not knowing quite what it was she wanted to see there.

  “It’s not—not that bad, is it?” she said after the silence stretched too long.

  “I don’t know,” said Olbeck in a low voice. “I don’t know. In one way, it takes your breath away, how close it is but yet—when I look at it more closely, I can see that, well, there’s nothing really much there.”

  “Yes, I think so too,” said Kate. “The more you look at it the more you realise it’s not much alike at all. Don’t you?”

  “Mmm.” Olbeck sounded less convinced that she would have liked. After a moment, he propped the picture back against the wall and stood up.

  “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s eat and watch the film.”

  Back in the living room, Olbeck began to fiddle about with the DVD player.

  “Can I make a fire?” he asked eagerly, like a small boy. Kate was amused, in spite of herself.

  “Of course. Knock yourself out. I’ll get the food.”

  Olbeck got the DVD working and knelt to build the fire. Once it was crackling to his satisfaction, he sat back on Kate’s sofa and put his feet up. He looked around the neat, cosy, nicely-decorated room. It was funny—when he’d been with Joe, he couldn’t stand to be in this kind of warm domestic setting; it made him want to run screaming down to the nearest dodgy bar and never go home again. At Kate’s, it somehow felt different. Perhaps it was because he was just a visitor. She’ll make someone a wonderful wife someday, he thought and decided with a grin to tell her that when she came back into the room, mainly to see the outraged look on her face.

  Kate came back with a plate full of food and a glass of wine for him, but by that time, the moment had passed. She brought in her own tray and they began to watch the film.

  “This is shite,” said Olbeck, after about twenty minutes had passed.

  “It’s certainly low-budget,” said Kate. She pushed listlessly at the remaining food on her plate—she’d hardly touched anything.

  “It’s pretty dated, isn’t it? Look at the mobiles they’re carrying.”

  Kate scoffed. “Trust you to notice that.”

  “I’m just going to the little boy’s room. Don’t bother stopping it.”

  Kate pushed a forkful of cold rice into her mouth and chewed slowly, staring at the screen, not so much because she was interested in what was happening, more that she couldn’t be bothered to look away. The film changed scenes. Her eyes widened. Suddenly she sat bolt upright and choked.

  Olbeck was halfway up the stairs when he heard Kate yell. He arrived back in the living room five seconds later, wide-eyed.

  “What the hell? What’s the matter?”

  Kate was spluttering, covered in half-chewed rice. She clawed frantically for the remote, stabbing her finger at the screen.

  “It’s him, it’s him! The guy, the man—it’s him!”

  “What the hell?”

  “There, there. It’s him, it’s our guy. The one with Elodie. Look there—”

  She paused the DVD. Th
e actor on screen froze, staring out from the screen.

  Kate wiped the last remaining grains of rice away from her mouth.

  “Are you sure?” asked Olbeck.

  “I’m sure. It’s him. My God.”

  They looked at one another in shock. “I can’t believe it. He’s an actor. No wonder he looked familiar.”

  “He was an actor,” said Olbeck, checking the back of the DVD cover. “I was right. This film’s twelve years old. He might not still be an actor.”

  Kate was staring at the screen.

  “It’s definitely him,” she said, after a moment. “Younger, but I can tell it’s him. What’s his name?”

  “What character is he playing?”

  “No bloody idea, I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Okay, we’ll watch it. Sit quiet and listen out for his name.”

  They watched intently for several minutes.

  “Arley. Arley? What kind of a name is that?” Olbeck muttered.

  “Skip to the credits,” said Kate, almost bouncing in her seat. Olbeck fumbled with the remote.

  They watched the credits scroll up the screen. Kate pounced.

  “There! Nathan Vertz. We’ve got it!”

  She grabbed her laptop and brought it to life, typing busily into the browser bar.

  “Checking IMDB?” asked Olbeck.

  Kate nodded. She typed in the name of the film, clicked twice and gave a cry of triumph. She began to read aloud from the screen.

  “Nathan Vertz. Former child star of the highly successful The Butterkins Trilogy, including Meet The Butterkins, The Butterkins Abroad, The Butterkins Christmas, Nathan Vertz also starred in the independent British production Wine and Roses.” She looked at Olbeck, awed. “The Butterkins. God, what a blast from the past. Remember those films?”

  “I used to love the books.” Olbeck looked from the computer screen to the frozen image on the television. “I can’t believe that’s the same guy who played Toby Butterkin. God.”

  Kate was busy pulling up more information.

  “Look, he’s got his own Wikipedia page.”