‘Maybe she imagined it, stress and all that.’
‘No. Charlotte’s not like that.’
‘But why should someone abduct her because of my sister’s death?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to find out. I thought you might talk to me about what happened, and that it might throw up something that could help me find her.’
‘I can’t see how,’ she said warily, still eyeing him with suspicion.
‘I have to try. I can’t ignore the fact that she’s disappeared straight after talking to Terence Blackerman.’
‘What does that scum bag say about it?’
‘I’m not being allowed to question him.’
She narrowed her eyes, obviously not sure whether to trust him. ‘How come you found me?’
She was smarter than he’d given her credit for. He could lie and say he’d found her through his own research but he knew that would just get him thrown out.
‘The police told me where you lived.’ She looked about to explode. Hastily Marvik continued. ‘When I say police, it was one officer, working alone. And he, like me, believes that Charlotte’s abduction is connected with what happened in 1997.’
‘Then send this copper here.’ She stepped forward, as though to evict him.
Marvik had to prevent that. ‘There isn’t time.’ Swiftly he pressed on. ‘Every minute counts if I’m to find Charlotte alive, and if what Blackerman claims is true and he didn’t kill your sister then the person who did is still at liberty and might be willing to kill another innocent woman in order to protect himself. He will certainly try and kill me if I get close to him. But I couldn’t give a shit about that as long as I can find Charlotte and make sure she’s safe first.’
She was still eyeing him guardedly.
‘Please, Helen, five minutes, just a few questions. I know it will be painful for you but it could help me find Charlotte. Then I’ll leave you in peace.’
She gave a heavy sigh, then shrugged. ‘Might as well. I’ve got sod all else to do. But I still say he killed her.’ She closed the door and made for the stairs opposite. ‘The kitchen’s on the second floor,’ she said by way of explanation. ‘Crap place to put it but the architect obviously thought it would be good exercise for the occupier who has to lug all the shopping up there, and the washing from the garden, not that you can call a postage stamp a garden.’
‘You don’t like living here?’ he said to her rear, clad in a tight short black skirt.
‘Would you?’ she tossed over her shoulder.
‘No,’ he answered instantly. ‘Then why stay?’
‘Because I’ve got a crap job in a crap company which pays me just enough to continue with the rent on this crap house for another month until the lease expires since my even crappier partner decided he’d have more fun with a blonde twice his age, with three kids in tow.’
He smiled, taking care not to let her see it. He rather liked her style.
She turned into the modern kitchen at the front of the house. ‘Coffee?’
‘Thanks,’ he said, taken aback by the unexpected offer. She’d mellowed. He wasn’t sure why and he wasn’t going to ask or quibble over it. He was just glad. It would make his delicate task that much easier. And by drinking coffee he was going to get a lot longer than five minutes. He peered out of the window. The street was deserted. The rain bounced off the pavements and ran off the pitched roof of the porch below him.
‘It’ll have to be instant.’
‘That’s fine,’ he said, turning back. ‘Where will you go when the lease runs out?’ he asked as she flicked on the kettle.
‘Anywhere away from here and the shit job I’ve got.’
‘What do you do?’
‘I work in a call centre, answering calls from irate customers who have been fucked around by the company who really couldn’t give a toss about them anyway. It was all I could get and better than being on benefit, which I add I have never been on in my life,’ she declared as though he was going to accuse her of that.
He didn’t ask why she wasn’t taking calls today. Perhaps she didn’t work Sundays anyway, or perhaps the call centre was closed at weekends, although that was unlikely these days. ‘What would you like to do?’ he said, watching her heap a large spoon of coffee into a mug. Good job he liked it strong. She did the same in her own mug.
‘Not what I’m doing now.’ She sloshed hot water into the mugs, not noticing she’d spilt some on the work surface or if she did she wasn’t going to bother mopping it up. She pushed a hand through her long straight purple hair and studied him again with her penetrating eyes but they weren’t quite as hostile as previously. ‘And what do you do when you’re not looking for your girlfriend or working for the police?’
He hadn’t said Charlotte was his girlfriend: maybe she was fishing to see if she was, or perhaps she’d just assumed it.
‘I’m between jobs,’ he answered evasively. He didn’t see there was any need to tell her about his past or that he worked for Drayles.
She raised her black eyebrows and opened the fridge. Retrieving a carton of milk she poured some in her own mug and did the same to his without asking him whether he wanted it. Tossing the empty packet in the bin she said, ‘Was Blackerman’s son in the army?’
‘Marines.’
She handed him his mug and picked up her own. ‘Well I’m sorry for him and his mother, but not for his father.’ She walked away assuming Marvik would follow her and he did into the lounge which gave off from the tiny kitchen. Here she plonked herself on to the L-shaped sofa, tucked her long legs under her and clutched her coffee mug with both hands. Marvik sat and turned to face her across the low table on which was a laptop with the lid down and a mobile phone.
She said, ‘Have you any idea of what Esther’s death did to my family?’
‘Yes,’ said Marvik, recalling his reaction to his parents’ death. It fucked you up. He’d joined the Marines to get as far away as possible and to become absorbed in a life so different from the one he’d known that he no longer had to think of it. And maybe that was what Paul had done, except he hadn’t known about his father’s crime until he’d enlisted. After that perhaps he’d placed himself in as much danger as possible as a way of goading fate into trying to kill him. With Paul fate had succeeded. And how had Helen coped, he wondered. How old had she been when her sister had been killed? In her teens he thought.
‘How can you know?’ she scoffed, but there was an edge of sadness to her tone.
‘I understand that your father was killed in the Falklands War.’
‘I was a year old, so I have no idea what he was like except what I was told when I was growing up, that he was funny, kind and brave.’
That made her thirty-three.
‘There was a big gap between me and Esther; she was eight years old when I was born, so she looked after me a lot as a kid, especially when she was a teenager and mum’s condition got worse. Mum had MS.’
‘Did Esther always attend the Remembrance Service at the Albert Hall?’ Ross had told him it was Esther’s first time but no harm in checking.
‘No. She’d never been before but Mum died in 1996 so Esther wanted to do something to remember them both. And she was involved with the Royal British Legion.’
‘Did you offer to go with her?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I thought it would be boring. I wish to God I had gone. She might still be … Well I didn’t and that’s that.’ Her head came up and her eyes flashed anger as though he might be about to accuse her of neglect.
‘Did she go alone?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t remember the details. I know the tickets were issued through the Royal British Legion so she might have arranged to meet up with some of the members there.’
Marvik needed to check that out.
‘When did she go up to London?’
‘On the Friday before the Remembrance Service – look you must know all this.’ The suspicion was back in her voice and in h
er eyes. ‘This police officer you mentioned must have told you, it’s all in the files.’ She put down her mug and made to move, obviously with the intention of throwing him out.
‘I haven’t had access to the files or the trial notes. Intentionally. I don’t want to be prejudiced by what is in them.’
She eyed him sceptically and slightly puzzled. ‘But wouldn’t it help you find Charlotte quicker?’
‘Not if this killer has friends in high places. He mustn’t think the authorities are on to him or he’ll kill Charlotte and cover his tracks. No one’s found him for seventeen years. He’s very clever and very powerful.’
‘So what makes you think you’ll find him now?’
‘Because he’s abducted Charlotte and that’s a big mistake.’ She considered this. Marvik caught the beeping sound of a vehicle reversing. He added, ‘I know you don’t believe Blackerman’s innocent, that’s fair enough, but he knows something and he’s kept quiet about it and he’d only do that if his family were being threatened and I believe they were.’
‘But his son’s dead.’
‘Yes, and his wife, but Charlotte’s missing, so she’s now become the threat to keep him silent.’
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. He took that as assent to continue his questions. ‘Do you know where she stayed on the Friday night?’
‘In the Union Services Club.’
‘Did she?’ Ross hadn’t said but then why should he have done, and Marvik could hardly have pumped him for all the information.
‘No, hold on, the police said she didn’t. She only stayed at the club on the Saturday night. They asked me where she stayed Friday and I said I didn’t know and I still don’t unless the police found out.’
‘Did it come up at the trial?’
‘I don’t think so but it’s all a bit of a haze and I was only sixteen.’
It was something that Marvik would need to check with Crowder or Blackerman’s defence lawyer and he wondered who that had been. He couldn’t remember seeing the name in the reports he’d read on the Internet on Wednesday night.
‘Did Esther keep a diary?’
She shrugged. ‘The police didn’t find one.’
But had Grainger found it and suppressed it? If he had was that because it cocked up his case against Blackerman and he didn’t want that, or perhaps Blackerman had taken it from Esther’s room. But if he had then why not hand it over if it exonerated him? Unless he was mentioned in it. Perhaps their relationship was more than a one-night stand.
‘Did Esther have a boyfriend?’
‘Not at that time. She’d had boyfriends, but Esther wasn’t very lucky on that score. Neither am I,’ she added with bitterness. ‘But not in the same way. Esther was too trusting, I’m not trusting enough.’ She fiddled with the ends of her hair. Marvik noticed her bitten nails were painted a deep purple that almost matched her hair colour. He could see she’d been hurt but how, why and by whom he didn’t know and wasn’t going to ask. It was nothing to do with him or with finding Charlotte.
‘Esther was the opposite of me,’ she continued. ‘Gentle, quiet, romantic. I think she was looking for her knight on the white charger, only they don’t exist, do they?’ she challenged.
‘No,’ he replied with conviction and at last got a smile from her. He thought she should do it more often. ‘What was her mood like immediately before she was killed?’
She appeared momentarily stunned but Marvik knew it wasn’t because of his question but his choice of words. Esther hadn’t died she’d been killed and that made a world of difference.
‘I can’t really remember. I didn’t take much notice. I was still angry and hurt at Mum’s death. I was sick of school, and keen to get out into the big wide world of work. We were living in a rented flat in Marchwood, great view across the river to the docks,’ she added with a slight sneer. ‘I spent as much time as I could out of the place, with friends or just hanging around the shops.’
‘Was she at work the Friday before the Remembrance Service?’
‘I suppose so. She must have been. Everything is a bit of a blur. And I’ve tried very hard not to think of it, until now,’ she added with bitterness, narrowing her eyes at him.
Marvik wasn’t sure he could press her further but there were a couple more things he still needed to ask because he didn’t think he’d get a second chance at this.
‘Esther’s personal belongings? Do you have them?’
‘How the hell’s that going to help you find your girlfriend?’ she flashed.
‘I’ve no idea,’ he answered with a touch of frustration, and it was the truth.
She seemed to regret her outburst. ‘Look, I’m sorry she’s missing but I can’t see how what I’ve told you can help you find her. There was nothing in Esther’s personal belongings except clothes, toiletries and jewellery, and no I don’t have them. I got rid of everything.’
‘Everything?’ he said quietly.
Her green eyes flinched. She had kept something but he understood that it was too personal to share with anyone, particularly a stranger. He tossed back the remainder of his coffee and made as though to rise but didn’t. ‘I’m sorry for dragging up such painful memories.’
She opened her mouth to reply then closed it. Perhaps she’d heard the sincerity in his voice that stemmed the sarcastic reply she’d been forming. Their eyes connected. Hers were questioning and anxious, but there was also sadness. She looked away first.
‘It seems such a long time ago now that I sometimes wonder if it ever happened,’ she said sorrowfully. ‘Then I hear a tune on the radio or watch a serviceman being brought home in a coffin on the TV and bingo I’m back there in November 1997 wondering what the hell is going on, why there are so many people in our flat.’ She swallowed her coffee. ‘I have to look at her photograph to remind myself that I had a sister once.’ She sprang forward and put her coffee mug on the table. ‘Would you like to see her?’
He would, very much, and said so. There had been no pictures of Esther in the media reports he’d read, which he now considered unusual. But the press would have been kept away from Helen and perhaps Esther’s employers had refused to give them a photograph. Maybe they didn’t have one. The media would have tried Esther’s friends but maybe she didn’t have many and the ones she’d had were protective of her. And the police hadn’t issued a plea to ask if anyone had seen Esther on the Friday before her death because as far as they were concerned there was no need. They had the killer.
Helen handed him her phone. Esther Shannon was not how Marvik had imagined. For a start she was blonde and very pretty in a delicate way, with an oval face, clear pale skin and a slightly shy smile. She also had very blue eyes much like Charlotte’s and he thought there was quite a striking resemblance between the two women, but not the two sisters. He said as much.
‘Esther favoured Dad. That picture was taken on her twenty-first birthday. And three years later she was dead.’
It was pointless and unnecessary saying how sorry he was. After a moment he said, ‘Could you send that to my phone?’ He wondered if she’d tell him to get lost but she asked for his number. He gave her the number of the phone he’d been given by Crowder and a few seconds later it was there.
She led him down the stairs but before opening the front door, she said, ‘What will you do now?’
He’d been considering that. ‘I’d like to know where Esther went and where she stayed on Friday night.’
‘You think she was with someone?’
‘Don’t you?’
‘Yes. But it can’t have anything to do with her death.’
‘It might not but why didn’t whoever she stayed with come forward?’
‘Maybe they did and it wasn’t thought necessary to mention it at the trial.’
That was possible. ‘I’d still like to know why it wasn’t thought necessary.’ Now for a delicate question. ‘Do you know if your sister was on the Pill or practised any other birth-control methods?’
‘No idea. And before you ask I don’t remember that coming up at the trial either.’
But Esther’s medical records must have been checked by the police. Would Crowder know? Not if he hadn’t accessed the file as he said for fear of alerting the killer. And Marvik knew Esther’s doctor wouldn’t disclose that kind of confidential information to him.
She said, ‘I don’t remember seeing any pills or any other birth-control devices in her belongings.’
But they could have been removed along with anything else that might have been incriminating. Maybe Terence Blackerman would know: he’d had sex with her after all. Perhaps he’d used a condom, though Marvik found it hard to believe a chaplain would have carried them around on the off chance of a casual relationship. But again he wondered, perhaps it hadn’t been so casual after all.
He left wanting to ask if he could talk to her again. There was so much he didn’t know and which she might be able to tell him if only he knew what questions to ask. But he could see how traumatic it was for her. Her sister’s death had cast her adrift. He didn’t know if she had other relatives but even if she had he sensed that, like him, she’d shut them out. How could they possibly understand? And she, like him, didn’t want their banal, although probably well meaning, condolences.
Climbing into the Land Rover he thought how hopeless was his quest in trying to find Charlotte by uncovering the truth behind Esther’s murder. It would take forever. Crowder had spun him a line and he’d fallen for it. He was stumbling about blindfold with no authority and no bloody clue where he was going. For Christ’s sake this needed a whole team of police officers working on it, not a lone bloody ranger. He had no chance of ever finding Charlotte this way. It was time he told Crowder that, and he would once he reached Strathen’s apartment. There he would call him and ask for a meeting. He’d tell him the deal was off and if he didn’t pull out all the stops on finding Charlotte then Marvik would go to a higher authority. And yet even as he thought that he had a sinking feeling that Crowder would block him. He was caught between a rock and a hard place and there seemed no way out of this. He had to do as Crowder asked. But Crowder’s plan had failed. There had to be another way. He only wished he knew what that was.
Silent Running Page 8