by Kate Ellis
Emily wanted him there.
Polly Myers stood at the foot of the stairs, gulping in deep breaths of air in an effort to calm herself. Perhaps it had been a mistake not to answer the door to the police during those first days. She had drawn attention to herself … and to Daisy. And that was the last thing she wanted.
She had lied to the police. She’d kept Daisy at home because she hadn’t wanted to let her out of her sight … not since she’d learned he was out there. But she’d told Joe Plantagenet that Daisy was at the childminder’s because she hadn’t wanted to risk her being questioned. She’d been through enough already in her short life.
‘Mummy,’ a little voice called from upstairs. ‘Mary says she’s hungry. Can I give her something to eat?’
Polly looked down at her hands. They’d started to shake. Perhaps she should take Daisy to stay with Yolanda again. She was getting used to staying there – she’d been there on the night the girl was murdered in the close. At least she’d be safe with Yolanda.
And maybe that way she could get her away from Mary’s influence once and for all.
‘I’ve got an uneasy feeling about that Polly Myers,’ Joe said to Emily as they walked side by side to the interview room.
‘Oh aye? Why?’
‘She said she was alone but I’m sure there was someone upstairs.’
‘So she’s up to a bit of hanky panky and she doesn’t want to share it with the police. Hardly surprising.’
Joe said nothing. Emily could well be right. But Polly Myers hadn’t seemed like an embarrassed woman caught in the act. It had been more than that. She’d been frightened of something.
‘I just wondered if we should question her again. Her house overlooks the murder scene and …’
Emily sighed. ‘Maybe another time. Our first priority is to see the Stranges. Then you can buy me a pint afterwards. Sam Smiths for preference.’ She hesitated. ‘On second thoughts I’d better get straight home tonight and read through those files again – see if there’s anything we’ve been missing. Jeff and the kids see little enough of me as it is so at least that way I’ll be there in body if not in spirit. Polly whatever her name is can wait till tomorrow. If she’s got a kid in tow, it’s unlikely she’ll do a moonlight flit.’ Joe could see she was frowning, deep in thought.
‘That Bridget … the one who owns the doll shop Sunny and Jamilla visited – Bridget’s Bygones. There’s still no answer from her home address and the girl who helps her in the shop has no idea where she’s gone. It just seems odd to me that she sells antique dolls and she’s chosen this moment to do a vanishing act.’
‘I’ve got a couple of DCs trying to track her down.’ She looked up at him as though she’d just remembered something. ‘You never said before how your Maddy was getting on in the Smoke. How’s she doing?’
He didn’t answer for a few moments. The question was unexpected. But he should have known that Emily never forgot to follow up an unanswered question. That’s why she was good at her job. ‘She called last night to say she’d been called for a second interview.’
He saw Emily raise her eyebrows, as though she sensed his lack of enthusiasm. ‘You’d rather she didn’t get this job?’
He considered the question for a few seconds. ‘It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Too good to pass up.’
Emily looked him in the eye. He knew that after all her years in CID, she could spot evasion and half truth when she heard it. ‘That’s the authorised version. What do you really think?’
What did he think? He wasn’t sure. ‘Like I said, if it’s what she wants.’
‘As long as I don’t lose you to the dubious charms of the Met,’ she said with an uncharacteristically shy smile.
Joe didn’t answer. He checked the time again. Five-fifteen – the time when most people would be contemplating their journey home.
‘Let’s have a word with the Stranges,’ said Emily. ‘I’d be very interested to hear his explanation of how Natalie Parkes’s necklace came to be under the passenger seat of his wife’s Toyota.’
‘Are we seeing them separately or together?’
Emily considered the question for a few moments. ‘Together at first, I think. I want to see the body language – how they react with each other.’
Joe couldn’t argue with that. They’d both be watching for the unspoken signals. The little glances.
When they reached the interview room Joe noticed that Barbara Strange looked anxious and the fine lines that formed a spider’s web around her eyes and upper lip seemed deeper today. Perhaps it was the harsh light from the fluorescent strips above … or perhaps it was because she was feeling the strain.
Vince Strange sat beside his wife. He looked up as they entered the room and his expression gave nothing.
‘Thank you for coming in,’ Emily said politely as she sat down opposite the couple.
Joe saw Vince Strange glance at the uniformed constable sitting by the door. ‘I had to miss a meeting. It’s very inconvenient.’
‘What exactly do you do, Mr Strange?’ Joe asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.
‘I’m a partner in Kirby’s … the Chartered Accountants.’
Joe nodded and looked at Barbara. ‘What about you, Mrs Strange?’
‘I’m a physiotherapist. I work part time at a private clinic,’ she replied, her mind clearly elsewhere.
Emily opened her handbag and took out the plastic evidence bag that contained Natalie Parkes’s necklace. She handed it to Strange who shot his wife a wary glance.
‘Ever seen this necklace before? It belonged to Natalie Parkes.’
It was Barbara Strange who answered. ‘I think I’ve seen her wearing it but …’
‘What about you, Mr Strange?’
Joe watched him carefully as he made a pretence of trying to remember, frowning and holding the bag up to the light. ‘I can’t remember,’ was the final answer. ‘I can’t say I notice things like that. I mean, you don’t, do you?’
Joe saw him glance at his wife, as if for reassurance.
‘So you can’t explain how it came to be under the passenger seat of your wife’s car.’
There was a flicker of panic in the man’s eyes, swiftly suppressed. ‘She must have dropped it sometime when Barbara was giving the girls a lift somewhere. Isn’t that right, love?’
His wife nodded nervously, as though she anticipated disaster.
‘We have witnesses who saw Natalie wearing this necklace on the night she died,’ said Emily quietly. ‘Your daughter being one of them.’
Barbara looked as though she’d been punched. But perhaps betrayal was worse. ‘She must be mistaken. Or perhaps Natalie had two necklaces like that.’ She was clutching at every available straw now. ‘Look, Vince was at the golf club then he was home with me. He didn’t go out again. I swear.’
Joe suddenly had an idea. ‘What about you, Mrs Strange? Did you go out in your car that night?’
Barbara Strange shook her head vigorously.
‘You might have been worried about Karen. You might have gone to offer her a lift home,’ said Emily. ‘We’re always worried sick about our kids, aren’t we?’ she continued. Joe had to admire the way she was playing the mum card but omitting to mention that her children were as yet too young for unaccompanied nights out. ‘It’s the sort of thing I’d do, offer them a lift home even when it’s not particularly wanted … just for my own peace of mind. You can never go to sleep until they get in anyway so you might as well …’
‘I didn’t go out. I’m telling the truth. Neither of us went out after Vince got back from the golf club. We thought Karen was staying at Natalie’s so we weren’t worrying about her.’
‘But she didn’t stay at Natalie’s, did she?’ Joe said sharply. ‘She went off with a man and left Natalie to get herself murdered.’
He saw Barbara flinch at the brutality of his words but he knew he wouldn’t get to the truth by tiptoeing about.
Barbara swiftly regained her com
posure. ‘Karen feels terrible about letting Natalie down and I think that’s punishment enough, don’t you, Inspector?’
Joe didn’t reply. Karen Strange hadn’t seemed particularly repentant when they’d spoken to her, but perhaps then the true horror of the situation hadn’t sunk in.
Emily had a determined look on her face. Joe knew she wasn’t going to give up until she found out the truth.
‘Is there any chance that anybody else borrowed the car? Your son’s at university here, I believe.’
Neither of them answered.
Joe caught Emily’s eye. They were onto something here. ‘He has borrowed your car in the past, I take it?’
He noticed a furtive look passing between the Stranges, over so swiftly that if he hadn’t been looking out for it, he’d have missed it.
‘Yes.’
‘You told us he doesn’t live at home.’
‘He shares with some other students in Hasledon.’
‘But he was home on Friday night?’
Barbara’s eyes widened and Joe could tell that she was torn between lying to the police and defending her young.
‘Well?’ Emily prompted.
Barbara hesitated. ‘OK. He was at home that night. But we never heard him going out.’
‘You’re sure about that?’
Barbara nodded vigorously.
‘We’d like to have a word with your son. Where can we find him?’
The Stranges hesitated, as though saying no was an option. In the end it was Vince who recited an address in Hasledon as his wife watched him, her lips pressed together with what looked like pent-up fury.
It was Vince who spoke next. ‘When can we have the car back? It’s very inconvenient for my wife. She …’
‘You can pick it up from the police garage,’ said Emily. ‘Just report to the front desk and they’ll tell you where to go.’ She stood up.
‘What do you reckon?’ Emily asked once they were back in the incident room.
‘We need to speak to the son as soon as possible.’
‘I’ve just sent a patrol car round to pick him up.’ Emily scratched her head. ‘Is it Vince … or Barbara? Or is it the son? Want to place bets?’
‘No,’ said Joe. ‘But Sunny Porter will. He usually runs a sweepstake on most major cases.’
Emily raised her eyebrows. ‘You are joking? What about my predecessor – your old DCI? Did he know about all this?’
‘Know about it? He usually won,’ Joe said with studied innocence.
‘What about you? What do you think of betting on the outcome of a murder inquiry?’
He shrugged. ‘Things get tense in the incident room. It helps people let off steam. And I haven’t come across anyone manufacturing evidence so that they can win a few quid.’
‘Well I see no reason to change the status quo. I might even have a little flutter myself.’
Joe checked the time and found that it was flying too quickly as usual. ‘We need to have a word with Christopher Strange. He could easily have borrowed his mum’s car and picked up Natalie Parkes.’ The words ‘and killed her’ were left unsaid.
DC Jenny Ripon knocked at the door. The news she brought wasn’t exactly bad. More frustrating. Chris Strange wasn’t at home or at the university and his house mates didn’t expect him back until the early hours because it was someone’s birthday.
‘OK,’ said Joe, resigned. ‘We’ll call on Chris Strange first thing in the morning. He’s a student – and probably a student with a hangover – so there’s only one place he’ll be.’
‘Under the nearest duvet?’
‘Got it in one.’
Michele had looked out through the small, barred window of Alice’s room while she was changing her incontinence pad but had seen nothing but clouds, sheep and fields. There was no help out there. At first she had found dealing with Alice’s most personal needs disgusting but now it was becoming routine. If someone had told her that she’d be able to do something like that a week ago, she’d have laughed in their faces and said no way.
Now that she was clean Alice seemed calm and Michele knew that it would soon be time for her to do the afternoon cleaning. All the pretence about entertaining people from the fashion industry had now been abandoned and Michele knew that she was being kept there as an unpaid domestic servant, to look after Alice so that the immaculately groomed Sylvia didn’t have to soil her beautifully manicured hands.
But there was a nagging worry in the back of her mind that there might be a more sinister reason behind her imprisonment. Something connected with the second male voice she’d thought she’d heard – the voice of the stranger. She’d read stories in the paper about people being kept as sex slaves and forced into prostitution, and her enforced solitude was feeding her imagination.
She heard the key turn in Alice’s door as it was unlocked to release her for her next task. She walked out past Sylvia meekly, head bowed. She knew what was expected of her now and somehow obedience was easier. And probably safer until she could find a way out of there.
She made for the kitchen and Sylvia followed behind, issuing terse orders, all charm gone. When Michele had summoned the courage to ask about the modelling the previous day, Sylvia hadn’t answered. She hadn’t even laughed.
Like any prisoner, she felt herself growing used to the routine of her day … drifting into an unquestioning acceptance. Once the floors were cleaned, the brasses polished, she retired to the kitchen to deal with the washing – mainly Alice’s bedding and clothing. When the washing machine was on, she began to search the cupboards. Sylvia had ordered shepherd’s pie.
But when she couldn’t find the potatoes Michele began to panic as she imagined the possible consequences of failure. She began to search more frantically, tears pricking her eyes, willing the vegetables to appear by magic.
Then she looked through the lean-to window and saw the sack of potatoes in the corner, which meant that she had a problem. Sylvia had told her quite clearly that she wasn’t allowed in the little lean-to off the kitchen with its cupboards and its big chest freezer. The door to that particular room was kept locked at all times and only Sylvia had the key.
She had not learned yet whether disobedience had consequences. But it was a risk she didn’t care to take. However, she reasoned that any punishment might be more severe if the dinner wasn’t on the table.
The sight of a key left in the lean-to door seemed like providence. Sylvia was usually so careful about things like that and Michele wondered whether she was meant for once to use her initiative and find the potatoes for herself. And there they were, sitting on the floor like forbidden treasure.
Michele turned the key and entered the lean-to with its roof of dusty glass and mouldy wood. Her heart lifted as she squatted to take the potatoes out of the sack, wrinkling her nose at the smell of the earth caked around them. She took an armful back into the kitchen and dropped them on the table before returning to lock the door.
But she hovered in the doorway, key in hand, wondering why this unimpressive little annexe was forbidden territory. There was a big chest freezer standing at the far end like some pagan altar and she approached it with a mixture of curiosity and fear. And when she lifted the heavy lid it opened with a complaining groan.
Then Michele looked down, expecting to see brightly coloured packets of frozen vegetables and plastic shrouded chunks of vacuum-packed meat.
The food was there all right, arranged around the edges of the thing that lay the length of the freezer. The naked young woman looked like a mannequin, the stiff frozen flesh lying pale amongst the brightly packaged food, staring upwards with sightless eyes.
Michele guessed that she was around her own age. And she was definitely dead.
CHAPTER 10
Michele shut the freezer quietly and dashed out, locking the lean-to door behind her, her heart beating fast. She had covered her tracks so there was no reason for Sylvia or Barry to know she’d been anywhere near that freezer. No reason
at all for them to suspect that she knew what was in there.
She sat down at the kitchen table, staring at the potatoes, her heart racing, paralysed with fear. If they had killed one girl, what was to stop them killing twice? She had to stay alive. And the only way she could think of to do that was to bide her time and do as she was told until she had a chance to escape.
She jumped when the kitchen door opened. But she breathed deeply, trying to hide the terror she felt as Sylvia walked in and stood there looking down at her, a frown on her face.
‘Haven’t you finished yet?’
‘Almost.’
‘When you’ve done the dinner take up Alice’s tray. Then she’ll need changing and you can give her a new nightdress while you’re at it.’
‘Yes.’
Michele lowered her eyes meekly and Sylvia gave a nod of satisfaction before moving to leave. When she reached the door she turned back. ‘And you’ll have to do more potatoes. We’ve got a visitor.’
Michele opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it. And as she peeled the potatoes, tears began to stream down her face and into the pan.
Joe reached Gallowgate, trudging home through the night-time streets after another frustrating day. He’d wanted to question Christopher Strange and judge for himself whether he could be capable of Natalie’s murder. Surely nobody could do something like that and appear like a normal human being. But Joe knew from experience that it sometimes happened. People weren’t always what they seemed.
Suddenly the ringing of his mobile phone interrupted his thoughts.
‘Hi. Not still at work are you?’ he heard Maddy say.
His heart sank. He’d forgotten to ring her as he’d promised. But before he could pour out his apologies and excuses, she began to speak. ‘That murder’s been on the news down here again. They mentioned something about him copying some serial killer in the nineteen fifties. Is that right?’ She sounded concerned – or perhaps just intrigued.
‘It looks that way.’ Joe wasn’t really in the mood to talk about the case. He’d had enough. ‘How did the second interview go?’ he asked.
‘Really well.’ She sounded excited, full of it, and he tried to make enthusiastic noises, hiding his sinking spirits. He wasn’t surprised that it had gone well – Maddy was capable and eloquent, just the sort who’d make a good impression – but he was rather surprised that some little demon deep inside him, barely acknowledged, had been hoping for disaster.