by Celina Grace
Chapter Nine
“No, Claire didn’t have a boyfriend,” Tracy Collins said in a trembling voice. She wiped her eyes with a disintegrating tissue. “Well, not that I knew about. She was tight, never told me nothing about anything. Shut up like a clam, did Claire.”
Kate nodded as sympathetically as possible. While Tracy Collins was talking she had looked surreptitiously around the messy living room she and Fliss had been shown to when they knocked at the door. A former council house, number fourteen Ellis Drive reminded Kate of her mother’s home – the same boxy sixties design, the same smoke-stained ceiling, the same clutter and disorder all around. She realised that she still hadn’t got around to making a start on sorting her mother’s house out. Was it because she didn’t have the time or because it was just going to be too painful? Probably both, she thought to herself.
She dragged her attention back to what Tracy was saying. Adding to the grimy atmosphere was Tracy Collins’ partner, Kevin Pounder, who sat beside her and chain-smoked, saying nothing while Tracy talked and wept beside him.
“Did Claire ever mention to you that she was having suicidal thoughts?” Kate asked, as gently as she could but Tracy still winced.
“No – she never did. We didn’t really talk much though – she would never talk to me, just went up to her room when she came in from school. Spent hours up there. Wouldn’t even come down to watch the telly with me.”
“I see,” said Kate. “So you don’t think that there was any kind of boyfriend at all?”
“No. Claire was pretty young for her age, really. She was almost like a child.”
Kevin Pounder mashed out the latest cigarette butt into a brimming glass ashtray. Kate heard Fliss cough and fought not to do so herself.
“Claire was very thin,” Kate said, clearing her throat. “Was there any indication that she was suffering from an eating disorder?”
She could see Fliss looking at her and knew her colleague was wondering why she was asking that. “It’s just that if she had been, it might explain more about her state of mind – if she was self-harming,” she explained, for both Tracy and Fliss’s benefit.
Tracy gave a sob. “Well, she did self-harm, didn’t she? You couldn’t get more self-harmed than what she did.” Her tears increased. “I never knew she was so unhappy.”
Kate sat back a little, letting the woman compose herself. “Would you mind if I had a quick look in Claire’s room? I won’t disturb anything.”
Tracy nodded assent, still wiping her eyes. Kate drew Fliss to one side in the tiny hall. “You carry on with them, just see if there’s anything else you can get. I can do the room on my own, it’s just a quick look.”
Fliss nodded obediently and went back into the smoky living room. Kate went upstairs into the thankfully cleaner air. There were only two bedrooms and a small bathroom up here. Claire’s room was the smaller of the two. In contrast to the rest of the house, it was almost painfully neat. Again, Kate was reminded of her childhood; how she’d kept her room clean and tidy, almost obsessively so. She sat down on the bed, suddenly near tears. Could what happened to Claire have happened to her? What had given Kate a reason for living? She knew the answer to that and pushed it away, standing up and literally shaking herself, pulling herself together.
She looked through the neatly folded clothes in the tiny flat-pack chest of drawers. Noted the careful pile of school books and folders on the desk. Claire would never complete those now. Kate felt another jab of despair. Quickly, she looked under the bed, threw back the bedclothes and, as a last resort, heaved up the mattress.
There was a photograph there, a rectangular one of Claire, her mother and Kevin Pounder. It had been taken outside on a sunny day, perhaps in the narrow back garden of this very house. Claire and her mother were smiling, tentatively, screwing their eyes up against the light, but it was impossible to make out Kevin’s expression because his face had been obliterated. The entire section of the photograph where his face should have been was scratched away by the point of something sharp.
Kate sat back down on the floor, feeling cold. Claire must have done this, or else who would have hidden it under her mattress? Kate thought of the findings of the post mortem, Claire’s thinness and unhappiness, and looked at what the girl had done to the photograph of her common-law stepfather. She swallowed. Had he been abusing her? Is that why Claire had killed herself?
She bagged the photograph as evidence – although she doubted that, even if her supposition were true, anything could be done about it – and searched the rest of the room, finding nothing else out of the ordinary. Then she made sure that everything was back in place, just because she hated to think of Claire out there in the afterlife, watching her fragile walls against the chaos of her existence collapse through someone else’s hands. Oh Lord, Kate, you are being fanciful. She went downstairs slowly, feeling depressed.
*
There was a welcome surprise back in the office when Kate and Fliss returned that morning. Olbeck, ridiculously tanned and relaxed-looking, was standing with Theo and Rav, talking animatedly about safaris and wine-tours and the incredible view of Table Mountain from their honeymoon suite. Kate bounded over to hug him with a cry of joy. “Missed you, you old bugger,” she said, throwing her arms around him.
“Missed you too.” Olbeck gave her a squeeze and then released her.
Kate laughed. “On your honeymoon? I sincerely hope not! Anyway, glad you had a good time.”
“God, we did. We really did. I feel like I’ve been away for a couple of months, rather than a couple of weeks.”
“Well, I’m sure we can soon crush that good mood out of you,” Kate said, grinning. “Has everyone brought you up to speed?”
“More or less.” Olbeck looked serious. “What on Earth is going on at the art college?”
“Good question,” Rav piped up, waving a sheet of paper. “I did some research on suicide clusters. Thought you might like to have a read when you’ve got a moment.”
“Thanks, Rav,” Kate said, taking the paper. “You’ve saved me a couple of hours on Google. Good lad.”
“Well, I try,” Rav said, mock-modestly and they all giggled.
“Here’s the boss now,” Olbeck said, looking up as Anderton came through into the office. “Debrief time.” The little crowd dispersed back to their own desks. As Kate went to walk away, Olbeck grabbed her arm. “You free tomorrow night?”
“I think so.”
“Dinner at our place?”
“I’d love to,” Kate said fervently.
“Good.”
They had to stop talking then as Anderton had taken the floor. He began pacing up and down in front of the whiteboards, a movement so familiar to Kate now that she barely noticed it. Instead, she was thinking about that odd tension between them that seemed to have suddenly sprung up again and sighed inwardly, half in annoyance, half in hope.
“So, what was the result from the PM, Kate?” Anderton asked, for the benefit of the team rather than because he didn’t already know.
Kate tried to pull her mind back onto the job. “Classic suicide by hanging. No suspicious circumstances at all, although—” She hesitated, unsure of whether to mention the possibility of abuse. “There were signs that she’d recently had forceful sex, whether that was consensual or not was impossible to tell. But I did find something at Claire’s house that indicated she had a great deal of anger towards her mother’s partner. Whether that means anything in the context of the autopsy... I don’t know.” She held up the bagged photograph for everyone to see.
“Hmm,” said Anderton, ruffling his hair in thought. “Any DNA found on the body?”
“I don’t think so,” Kate said, trying to remember. “I can double check with Doctor Gatkiss, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t mention it.”
“Right.” Anderton paused for a moment. “I’m not sure we can go anywhere with that, to be honest. We don’t have the evidence and we don’t have the time or the manpower.�
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“Sexist,” said Jane.
“Sorry. We don’t have the resources to investigate a possible abuse case, particularly when the victim is already dead at her own hands. We’re agreed on that, right? No suspicious circumstances. Therefore, as before, the case will be closed.”
Everyone nodded and murmured agreement. Rav mentioned his research on suicide clusters and Anderton nodded approval. “Well done. Everyone have a look at what Rav’s produced but let’s hope to God that I’m wrong about this. Kate, Fliss, it might be worth contacting the head at the college to make sure they’ve tightened up their response to the tragedies – extended counselling, perhaps even a helpline. Maybe get someone from Victim Support to pay them a visit and work with them.”
“Okay.” Kate saw Fliss nodding too.
“Great. Well, if nobody has anything to add, let’s wrap up and we’ll reconvene before close of business tonight. I’ll be in my office for the next hour, if anyone needs me.”
The meeting dispersed. Kate headed back to her own desk and reached for her pen. She was a great list writer – it appealed to the organisational side of her and it was very satisfying to be able to cross through a whole list of tasks by the end of the day. Kate had been known to write things on her list that she’d already accomplished, purely for the satisfaction of crossing them off immediately.
Olbeck paused by her desk on the way back to his office. “Eight o’clock tomorrow do you?”
“Fine with me. Won’t Jeff be too jet-lagged to cook, though?”
“Ah, he’ll be fine. Otherwise we’ll get a takeaway, no bother.”
“Great. I’ll look forward to it.” Kate hesitated, wondering whether she could ask if Tin could come along too and then realised she would rather he didn’t. She hadn’t seen Olbeck for so long she wanted an evening with him and Jeff, uninterrupted by anyone else.
“How’s Tin?” Olbeck asked, as if he could read her mind.
“Fine.”
“Things still going well?”
“I think so.” Kate smiled at him as she swung her chair back around to face her computer. “Sorry, but I’ve got to get on with this. Let’s talk later.”
Olbeck patted her on the shoulder and continued to his office. Kate looked at the long list of things she had to do and sighed. Then she mentally squared her shoulders and began at the top.
Chapter Ten
Olbeck and Jeff’s house seemed to be literally full of wedding presents. Kate shuffled past the unpacked suitcases, still in the hallway, to find the living room awash with boxes of champagne glasses, sets of expensive linen bedding, some even more expensive speakers and, sitting in the middle of the dining room table, a potted miniature pear tree.
“We’ve got a bay tree too,” said Jeff, taking Kate’s coat. “I will never have to buy bay leaves again, it’s marvellous.”
Kate stared around the room. “I’m thinking I should get married just for the presents.”
“Oh, do, do,” said Olbeck, coming into the room with drinks for all three of them carefully balanced on a tray. “I can thoroughly recommend it.”
Kate raised her glass to them both in a toast. “Well, once again, congratulations to you both. What are we eating?”
Jeff, of course, had cooked something amazing, jet-lag or no jet-lag. They gathered around the kitchen table as the one in the dining room was taken up with wedding gifts. Inevitably, the conversation was mostly about the honeymoon and the three of them reminisced about the wedding, Kate making the two men laugh when she recounted the story of Theo’s killer hangover two days afterwards.
After dinner, they moved back into the living room, and Olbeck got the fire going. Kate stretched out on the sofa with a sigh of contentment.
“How’s work?” asked Jeff. “I read about the suicides. Bloody awful, such young kids.”
“I know,” said Kate, stifling a yawn. The sleepy feeling of wellbeing dissipated a little. She thought again of the woods behind the forest, the dark shape hanging from a tree, the lifeless dolls spread out on the floor of the open-air theatre. Once again, she felt that tiny flicker of something, of wrongness, of momentary unease that she was perhaps, after all, missing something important. But what?
“What’s up?” asked Olbeck, seeing her frown.
“Oh, nothing,” said Kate, sitting up a little. “It’s just a bit depressing, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Olbeck agreed. “Let’s not go into it now.”
The conversation moved on from honeymoons and weddings to weekend plans, Kate’s upcoming birthday, a new film that was coming out soon. After an hour, Kate could see Jeff struggling to stay awake, and after a few more minutes, he shook himself, got up and announced he was off to bed.
“Terribly rude of me,” he said, coming over to kiss Kate’s cheek. “But I can’t keep my eyes open. Sorry.”
“Don’t be silly,” Kate said, squeezing his hand. “Go and get some rest. That dinner was amazing, by the way.”
She looked across at Olbeck, wondering whether he was fighting back sleep as well. But no; if he was, he was doing a good job of hiding it.
Jeff waved farewell and disappeared out of the doorway, closing the living room door behind him. Kate asked Olbeck if he’d rather she left.
“Of course not, not yet,” he replied. “We’ve hardly had a chance to talk yet.”
Reassured, Kate topped up her glass and settled back into the sofa. “So, how’s married life?” she asked.
“Bloody good so far,” said Olbeck, with a grin.
“Is it any different to not being married?”
Olbeck seemed to ponder this. “Do you know, I think it is? I can’t say for sure how, but...something seems different. Can’t quite put my finger on what it is exactly, but yes. It does feel different. In a good way.”
“That’s good,” Kate said. A short silence fell. Kate was thinking about marriage in relation to herself. Did she want to get married, deep down? Did she really? And if she did, who did she want to marry?
Anderton, said a treacherous voice deep within her, and she stamped down on that hard.
As if he was reading her mind, Olbeck asked in a tone so mild that she didn’t take offence, “Do you think you’ll get married? Someday?”
Kate was able to laugh. “Oh, someday, probably. I don’t have anything against it...” She trailed off, thinking about Tin. Did she want to marry him? I don’t know, was the honest answer that came. Then what are you doing with him, Kate? She shifted a little in her seat, telling herself that of course she wasn’t sure, she’d only known the man for a few months.
“Well, I recommend it,” said Olbeck. “When you get around to it.”
Kate smiled. She finished her drink and put the glass back on the table. “Well, if and when I ever do decide to tie the knot, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Kate stood up, stretched and yawned, Then, steeling herself, she made herself ask the question. “So I suppose it’s onto the two point four children now, is it?”
Olbeck half-smiled. He opened his mouth and she knew then, in a flash of intuition, that he’d been about to make some flippant remark about whether Kate could be a surrogate for them but had thought better of it, knowing her history. She was glad he hadn’t said anything like that; despite all the therapy, she was still not sure she could joke about things like that.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Olbeck said casually, after a moment. “Plenty of time to think about that yet. We want to enjoy the honeymoon period!”
“Quite right.” Kate kissed him good night and said her goodbyes. “See you in the office tomorrow.”
“Night, darling. Send me a text when you get home safely.”
As always, Olbeck waited until Kate had got into her car and started the engine before he closed the front door. Kate drove away, smiling a little, feeling an odd mix of happiness and melancholy.
*
“How are you? Seems like it’s been bloody
ages,” Tin said, leaning across the table to top up Kate’s glass.
“Oh, you know,” said Kate, not quite comfortably. “You know what it’s like when you’re in the middle of a case.”
“When aren’t you in the middle of a case? What case, anyway? I thought these were all non-suspicious deaths. Aren’t they? Apart from that first one and you’re not looking for anyone else in connection with that, are you?” Tin sat back in his chair and fixed her with a beady eye. “You’re not, are you?”
Not for the first time, Kate wondered whether the pairing of a police detective and an investigative journalist could ever work. “No, we’re not.”
“Well, then,” said Tin. He grinned suddenly. “Sorry, it’s just that it’s good to finally see you. I’d almost forgotten what you looked like.”
His hand found hers under the table-top and at the touch of his warm fingers, Kate forgot some of the anxiety. She squeezed back. “It’s good to see you too.”
The waiter came – they were at one of their favourite restaurants, The Black Cat, on Abbeyford’s High Street – and Kate and Tin gave their orders. Tin topped up Kate’s glass again. Giddily, she wondered whether she’d already had two glasses or three. She wasn’t quite sure whether it was the alcohol making her unsteady, or Tin’s presence, or something else entirely. She felt a little as though she’d just woken up from too long a nap; she kept having to mentally shake her head as she sat there, thick-headed and dozy.
“So, what’s new?” she asked, making an effort. Raising her glass, she sipped away as Tin told her about the new story he was chasing up, that of illegal immigrants making their way into England through the shipping ports of Bristol.
“Poor buggers,” she finally commented when Tin had finished. She felt as if she’d already read the finished article several times over. “You have to sort of admire people who’ll take that many risks for a better life for themselves.”