by Rachel Lynch
The next drawer contained a fat envelope. She peeked inside. It was full of cash. She threw it back into the drawer and closed it, her heart pounding. She didn’t want to think about how Roza had earned it. Next she turned to the wardrobe. Anushka’s shelves were empty, except for a laptop, but Gabriela had seen her put something into Roza’s before she’d left earlier.
It was still there – a small drawstring bag. Did Anushka intend to come and collect it, or was it Roza’s in the first place and she’d been returning it? Gabriela wanted to know the answer. She put her hand inside and pulled out a watch; it was a Rolex. There was also a ring wrapped in a piece of toilet paper. It was a beautiful shade of rose gold and it clasped a large red stone that she was sure was a ruby. The final item in the bag was a roll of notes held together with an elastic band. More money. Dirty money.
Gabriela returned everything as she’d found it and knew that she hadn’t seen the last of the two girls. It was out of the question that they’d leave their hard-won earnings behind. But the watch hadn’t been earned. It was a man’s watch, and Gabriela was pretty sure it had been stolen.
Chapter 12
The drive from Ambleside to Walney Island was long and drab, with none of the dramatic scenery that had accompanied the first leg of her journey this morning, though now and again the coast could be glimpsed from the car. But Jenny Davis wasn’t bored at all. Not only was she getting out of the house for the day, she was travelling in a very smart car.
‘What is it?’ she’d asked Kelly as they approached the sleek vehicle.
‘A BMW 1 Series,’ Kelly said, embarrassed. She would look at getting a replacement as soon as she had time, something inconspicuous.
‘Gosh, it’s fun!’ Jenny said.
‘Shall I put the roof down?’ Kelly asked, thankful that she’d brought some delight to the woman’s life, if only very small.
Jenny grinned. The woman was incredibly endearing, and it made Kelly like her even more. Despite her horrific circumstances, Jenny had survived, and Kelly presumed it was because she had to, for Charlie. The two women chatted easily over the rushing wind, and only occasionally would Jenny fall silent and stare into the distance. During these moments, Kelly didn’t interrupt her.
‘My brother is a little slow. I thought I’d better tell you. I think they call it special needs these days.’ Jenny smiled.
‘Is that why he moves jobs frequently?’ Kelly asked.
Jenny nodded. ‘He forgets to turn up, or turns up late; he doesn’t think like the rest of us. He can only cope with one thing at a time, so if he’s thinking about lunch, he’ll forget he has a shift starting afterwards, and by the time he does remember, it’ll be too late.’
‘So do I need to ask him questions in a certain way, so he doesn’t panic?’ Kelly asked.
‘Just try to stick to one thing at a time and give him time to answer before moving on to the next question. His memory is good, so he should be all right if you keep things simple and direct.’
‘And he’ll have you there to help. Thank you for coming and making the drive more interesting,’ Kelly said.
They were approaching Barrow-in-Furness, the shipyard dominating the skyline like some gigantic power station. It could be seen from every street and ruined the view of the bay beyond it. After the charm of Ambleside, Barrow felt like a sprawling metropolis. Once a jewel in the British Empire’s crown, the place had seen happier times. If the iron industry had endured, that might still be the case.
The streets were largely deserted, reminding Kelly of the East End of London early in the morning, when the illegals had gone to bed but the rest of humanity had yet to rise. As they crossed Walney Bridge, the tide was on its way back in and some boats had begun to catch the water, while others still lay lopsided and waiting. With Devonshire Dock behind them now, the view was beautiful and they could see all the way to Black Coomb.
Jenny guided them to a quiet street and Kelly spotted the renovation straight away. Two men were climbing scaffolding and another two stood beneath, chatting and gesticulating. They stopped talking at the sight of unfamiliar faces and, more importantly, a smart expensive car driven by a woman. Kelly clicked the roof back into place with her key fob. The men continued to stare.
‘Can I help you?’ one of them asked eventually.
‘My brother Dennis is working here. I was wondering if we could speak to him; it’ll only take a minute,’ Jenny said.
‘Working’s one way of putting it,’ the man replied rudely. Jenny’s face went red.
Kelly decided to show her badge and his demeanour changed dramatically.
‘Is he in trouble?’
‘No, not at all. I just need to ask him some routine questions.’
‘He’s round the back, mixing cement.’ The man moved aside as Jenny walked past him.
‘How’s he getting on?’ Kelly asked him. ‘It means a lot to his sister.’
‘Sure, I understand. I’ve had worse. I’ll keep him on for the time being, for her sake, you know? I guess she’s the mother of the little girl who was murdered. Everyone knows she was Dennis’s niece.’ His face reddened.
So, the guy knew about Lottie, and had a heart.
‘Thanks,’ said Kelly, and waited. She was aware that both men were studying her, clocking her suit; there weren’t many women on Walney who dressed like that. She didn’t move, or look away; just returned their stares with a smile.
Eventually they both dropped their gaze, and one made an excuse to disappear round the back just as Jenny emerged with her brother.
Dennis was a big man, vast and lumbering, and he looked agitated; Jenny was speaking to him soothingly to calm him down. He didn’t take much notice of Kelly, who glanced at her car and wondered how they’d fit in. Jenny had suggested they drive to Biggar Bank; she said her brother loved the sea and it would encourage him to talk.
‘I think you’ll have to get in the back, Jenny. I’m afraid there’s not much room.’
Jenny nodded and bent down to climb into the tiny space. When Dennis got into the passenger seat, the car dipped visibly to his side. Kelly slipped in behind the wheel and started the car, and Jenny gave her directions.
Biggar Bank was a bleak spot that could have been in the Outer Hebrides, it was so windswept and desolate. As she parked, Kelly looked out to the Irish Sea and saw huge wind turbines far out on the horizon. She could feel the wind moving the car – even with Dennis in it – and after the engine was switched off she could hear it raging around them.
Jenny took the lead and leant forward to explain to Dennis why they were here. At first, the man’s eyes darted about and he wrung his hands together, but gradually her voice seemed to calm him down.
‘Den, this woman is a police officer – a detective – and she’s going to look at Lottie’s case again, like I told you on the phone. It’s great news. They want to ask you about the day Lottie was taken. I’ve already told them what I remember. Now it’s your turn.’ Kelly noticed that Jenny took her time over her words and spoke very clearly.
‘Lottie…’ The huge man began to cry. Jenny put her hand on his shoulder she looked like a doll soothing a giant. The windows began to steam up.
‘I know, Den, but it’s all right. She’s on our side, I promise.’ She nodded to Kelly; that was her signal.
‘Hi, Dennis, my name’s Kelly. Pleased to meet you.’ She held out her hand. Dennis stopped crying and took it. He sniffed, and Jenny found a tissue for him from her handbag.
‘Dennis, Jenny told us that she invited you to go eagle-spotting with Lottie and Charlie. Did you want to go?’
Dennis nodded emphatically.
‘Can you remember why you didn’t go?’
He looked up to the ceiling of the car, thinking. No one said a word.
‘I had a new job,’ he said eventually.
‘You must have been disappointed that you didn’t get to go,’ Kelly said.
Dennis nodded.
‘And did yo
u tell anyone that you were disappointed?’ she asked.
He looked her straight in the eye and froze. He seemed to zone out, and she wondered if he suffered seizures.
‘Dennis?’ said Jenny. He began moving again. Kelly’s pulse quickened.
‘I can’t remember,’ he said finally.
‘OK, Dennis. Did you tell anyone where your sister’s family was going? Did you share the information with a friend or a work colleague perhaps?’ asked Kelly.
‘I can’t remember,’ he said again.
Jenny shook her head: it was too many questions for him to process. Kelly needed to slow down. She decided to change tack.
‘Was Lottie excited about the trip, Dennis?’
‘Oh yes! She wore her red dress.’ He beamed. The car fell silent. Jenny looked at her hands.
‘Did you tell a friend that she looked pretty in her red dress?’ asked Kelly.
‘Oh yes, I told Wade.’ Dennis turned to his sister, his smile dropping when he saw her face. Jenny looked cross and Kelly didn’t know why.
‘Who’s Wade, Dennis?’ she asked.
The big man’s brow furrowed and his eyes darted about. It was difficult enough maintaining eye contact with him, but when he became agitated, it was impossible.
‘A school friend,’ he said eventually.
‘Wade Maddox is no good, that’s what he is. I told Den he shouldn’t see him,’ Jenny said.
‘Are you still friends, Dennis? Did Wade work with you? Was he working with you that day?’
Damn, too many questions. Dennis began to wring his hands again.
‘Sorry, just tell me if you’re still friends, Dennis.’
‘No.’
‘OK, was Wade working with you the day you couldn’t go eagle-spotting?’
‘No.’
‘When did you tell him about how pretty Lottie looked in her red dress, Dennis?’ Jenny swallowed, and a vein in her neck began to swell. She fully understood where Kelly was going with her line of questioning. Her brother looked out of the window.
‘I need to get back to work now,’ he said.
‘I know, Dennis, but if you could remember where you were when you spoke to Wade, that would be helpful for us and your sister.’
‘It was at his place. He let me play on his Nintendo.’
‘So was he a good friend?’ asked Kelly.
Dennis nodded.
‘But not now?’
‘No.’
‘Can you remember his address, Dennis?’
‘Can I go back to work?’ he asked, pleadingly.
‘Sure, you tell me the address and we’ll get going now.’ Kelly turned to the wheel and started the engine nonchalantly, getting out her notepad and scribbling down the address as Dennis blurted it out. He looked at Jenny for confirmation and his sister nodded.
‘Well done, Den. I think you’ve been really helpful. Let’s get you back to work.’
Kelly drove back to the renovation and stopped outside. Dennis got out of the car and walked away without looking back. The two men who seemed to be in charge had gone. The air in the car lightened and she flicked the roof down once more; they needed a breeze.
‘It’s a Barrow address,’ said Jenny, biting her nails. ‘Can we go?’
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come with me,’ Kelly replied. ‘You introduced me to your brother, and that was really helpful, but this is going to be an interview with someone you’ve already stated you don’t like, someone who is potentially connected to the case. I’m sorry.’
Jenny nodded and looked down at her hands.
‘Do you think he had something to do with Lottie going missing? I’ve been over it a thousand times, and it’s always the same. She chose the red dress herself; she was very independent.’
‘I can’t possibly know that yet. All I can do is follow leads as they come up. I’m so grateful that you’re allowing me to gain an insight into your daughter’s life. I’ll do my best to find you some answers.’
Kelly started the engine. She would let the office know her movements when she had an opportunity. It looked like she’d be spending the best part of the day in Barrow-in-Furness.
Chapter 13
Darren Beckett paced up and down the living room of the one-bedroom flat on Barrow Island. He’d fucked up big time.
He needed to think about how to save his skin.
He sucked hard on a cigarette but it did nothing to deliver clarity. The guys he was facing made Barrow boys look like fairies, and they wouldn’t hesitate to erase someone as small-town as him. For the time being, he had no desire to go back to Ambleside, but he’d have to sooner or later. Marko wanted to see him, and Darren wasn’t fucking stupid; he’d seen what happened when these guys didn’t get what they wanted.
He should’ve studied harder at school. His maths was good, he could’ve been an accountant or something for BAE, but he’d had to chase the fucking weed instead, and girls, and vodka… The list went on. His teachers told his mother that it was a waste seeing such talent thrown away. How was he supposed to know that one day he might need a legitimate job? No one had told him. One thing led to another, and before he knew it, he was involved in all sorts of scams, staying one step ahead of the coppers. It was negligible stuff: the odd burglary, roughing someone up, driving a van, delivering packages. But he had a feeling that was about to change. He owed Marko a debt because he’d made a mistake; he knew how they operated. He’d have to prove himself. Or get away.
Darren had met Marko in a club in Bowness. That had been six years ago, and now his neck was on the line, as he’d always known it would be. No one worked for a man like Marko and stayed clean. Marko was smooth and knew how far he could push people before they had to be forced, and he’d played it perfectly with Darren, knowing that his bag was dealing. Dealing in the Lakes was easy; always was. But Darren was in trouble and he knew it. Branching out on his own was a mistake, and he’d pay for it; he just hoped he could convince Marko to give him a second chance. It wasn’t about the money; it was about the risk. He should’ve stuck to what he knew, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to make a few extra quid on the side with the girls.
He couldn’t think straight. His brain was fuddled, stuffed full of drugs and booze. He considered his options and, for one of the very few times in his life, decided to face the issue head on. He had no alternative. He was broke, and Nush didn’t have a penny on her, though he knew she’d stashed it somewhere.
He had one thing in his favour. The night before Nush had fucked the old guy to death, he’d been cleaning up for someone else. He wasn’t even supposed to be the binman that night; Tony was. But Tony had been high into the stratosphere, or at the bottom of a bottle as usual. Marko should’ve got rid of him months ago. For whatever reason, it was Darren who got shafted with the housekeeping.
Roza was a mess by the time he got there, and the guy was jabbering on about how sorry he was. Sorry. Sorry! Sorry for breaking her neck and carrying on anyway? Necro. It never ceased to amaze Darren how sick these perverts were with the girls. Roza had shat herself and Darren thought he would throw up with the smell. The guy left him three hundred quid and that encouraged Darren to tolerate the stench and clean up. Funny how money did that. So that was his trump card. Somebody else had fucked up and that was why he’d made a mistake. It was totally someone else’s fault.
Nush’s moans interrupted his pathway to self-congratulatory justification, and he went to the bathroom. He’d plied her with booze and she was paralytic, collapsed over the bath. He helped her to the bed and she slumped onto it, face up. She wore only her underwear and he moved the cup of her bra to expose part of her left breast. He was horny, but he’d let her get too drunk. She knew she’d have to pay for what she’d done, and Darren looked forward to making her work off some of the debt before he got rid of her.
She slept on as he moved her pants to one side. She didn’t move. She really was out of it. He slid her pants down her leg
s and threw them onto the floor, then pulled her bra up. Still she didn’t move. His head was fuzzy and he wasn’t sure if he was actually climbing on top of her or not, but whatever he was doing felt good. He doubted he’d be able to actually complete the task, but he was enjoying being in control. He managed to get his own pants down and opened her legs wide and actually managed to get it in. It felt fucking fantastic.
Until she woke up. There was panic on her face as she struggled beneath him, trying to work out in her confusion what was happening. Her eyes were wide in fear, but Darren ignored that. There was no stopping now. He grabbed a pillow and held it over her face.
She stopped moving, but he carried on, taken by the pure waves of pleasure. He forgot where he was and who was under him and ploughed on until he’d finished. Then, sweaty, buzzing with satisfaction and drugs, he flopped over onto his back and lay there labouring for breath. Christ, he was out of shape. That was intense, but it had been just what he needed. Nush owed it to him anyway.
He turned towards her, but she hadn’t moved. The pillow was still half over her face and she lay with her hands above her head. He pulled it away. Her eyes stared sightlessly towards the ceiling and she wasn’t breathing.
Darren jumped off the bed and jerked and hopped about as he pulled up his pants and jeans. No, no, no, no… He was no better than the fucking pervert who’d killed Roza. He felt hot and his body shook, and he knew he was about to be sick. He ran to the small bathroom and vomited into the pan. He retched again and spat the vile liquid out, then went to the sink and rinsed his face with cold water.
As he looked into the mirror, a thought came to him. Marko wanted him to prove himself, wanted him to display his loyalty and show that he could be relied upon. He’d just done that by removing a loose end: a key witness who at some point the police would get round to tracking down. He’d done Marko a favour. This was an opportunity.
He went back to the bedroom to reassure himself that Nush really was dead, then looked around for something to wrap her in. She wouldn’t be heavy; they were all the same, these young girls, they’d rather starve and buy fags than eat. Now she could join Roza in the back of his car, and he could tell Marko that he’d tidied up not one problem, but two. He stripped a couple of pillowcases and put one over Nush’s head down to her shoulders, and another over her feet. He fetched a sheet, then wrapped her up and taped her, just like he had Roza, and went to get bin bags from the kitchen. By the time he was finished, it was totally dark outside.