Barry laughed, then said, ‘I told Angie about the girls’ night out. The one she wasn’t invited to.’
Ed stood there with the knife in his hand. ‘Nothing to do with me, mate.’
‘I know. I just thought you should know that she knows.’
‘Great.’ Ed went back to his chopping.
‘She won’t say anything.’ Barry stepped closer to him. ‘You know, she’s got better things to worry about. I mean obviously she’s far too busy on the internet all day long.’
Ed turned round again. Looked at Dave.
‘I don’t think Sue meant anything by that,’ Dave said.
Barry was still looking at Ed. ‘Well, it sounded to me like she was suggesting Angie sits there glued to the internet like some sad old mare, looking for stuff about dead girls or whatever because it’s so much more interesting than the life she’s got at home. You know, that’s what it sounded like …’
‘She didn’t mean that,’ Ed said.
‘I definitely didn’t get that impression,’ Dave said.
‘Sue hasn’t got a bad bone in her body,’ Ed said. ‘And trust me, I’ve tried to find it.’
‘I thought she was trying to be nice,’ Dave said.
Barry downed what was left of his wine. He nodded slowly and said, ‘Yeah, sorry. Not had a great day, that’s all.’
Dave pointed at the plaster on Barry’s hand. ‘Yeah, what the hell have you been doing to yourself?’
‘Good question.’ Ed wiped his hands on the back of his jeans. ‘My money’s on some sort of extreme wanking accident.’
Barry’s spluttered laughter was all the more explosive as he was clearly doing his best not to react. He gave Ed a thumbs-up and asked if he could have a beer.
The girls were in Sue and Ed’s bedroom.
Marina and Angie made it clear how much they admired the arrangement of cushions on the bed and the painted shutters at the window. They both said how much they adored the small walk-in wardrobe; Ed’s shirts all hung in a row and arranged by colour, Sue’s bags and shoes laid out neatly on shelves.
They walked across to study a display of framed photographs arranged on a dressing table. There were pictures of two older couples they presumed were Ed and Sue’s parents. There were pictures of Ed posing with a trophy in his tennis gear, of Sue and a group of children in uniform. There were several of Ed on beaches or lounging in a sunny garden, showing off the body they had got used to seeing around the pool at the Pelican Palms Resort.
‘Lovely photos,’ Angie said.
Behind them, Sue opened a drawer in her bedside table and when Marina and Angie turned around, she was holding a small silver frame with another photograph inside.
She passed it to Marina.
A young girl with long blonde hair and an awkward smile.
‘That’s Emma,’ Sue said. ‘My daughter.’
They both looked at her, eyes fixed as though knowing they had to avoid looking at one another. ‘I didn’t know you had any children,’ Angie said.
‘She died,’ Sue said. Nice and simple. ‘Six years ago … nearly seven. She was thirteen.’
‘God, I’m sorry,’ Marina said.
‘There’s no need.’
Angie shook her head. ‘How …?’
‘Leukaemia.’ Sue saw Angie look past her at the drawer from which she had taken the picture. ‘Ed can’t bear having any photos around.’ She sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘I think … for some people a photo reminds them of what they had, but for others … for Ed, it’s all about what they’ve lost. He still can’t come to terms with it, not really. That’s why he breezes through life telling his stupid jokes and showing off, but he still wakes up in tears sometimes. Or I hear him, from another room. They were very close. That whole daddy–daughter thing …’
Angie sat down on the bed beside her. ‘Did you not try and have any more kids?’
‘Yes, we tried.’ Nice and simple again. ‘But you take what’s given you, don’t you.’ She took the photograph back from Marina and looked at it. ‘She was really sporty, just like Ed, and outgoing. I know no parent ever says anything bad about their own child. You never hear anyone saying, “She was thick as a plank” or whatever, but I honestly believe she was a special kid.’
‘I’m sure she was,’ Angie said.
‘Maybe it’s the special ones that get taken early.’ She turned and stared at Angie, serious. ‘Don’t waste a day with your kids, not even a second.’ She glanced up at Marina. ‘You too, because I know that you and Dave are going to have some.’ She sniffed. ‘God, look at me. I haven’t cried over Emma for ages …’
She stood up, placed the picture carefully back in the drawer and took a tissue from a box on top of the bedside table. ‘Please don’t say anything to Ed.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Marina said.
She hugged each of them and said, ‘I’m really glad we were all there at the same time. In Florida, I mean. I think we were so lucky. You never know, do you, when you meet people like that, on holiday. It’s a lottery, isn’t it?’ She laughed and said, ‘They might turn out to be your worst nightmare.’ She looked from one to the other then nodded and reached for the door. ‘Right, come on. Let’s go and see what kind of a pig’s ear Ed’s made of dinner.’
The spaghetti carbonara was a big hit and there were cheers when Sue brought dessert out.
‘I bloody love tiramisu,’ Marina said. ‘Not too good for my waistline, mind you, but what the hell.’ She smiled when Dave leaned across and began to stroke the back of her neck.
‘Before anyone asks, it’s from the supermarket,’ Sue said. She began serving it into bowls. ‘I put it into this dish and I thought about lying, but I’m not sure I’d have got away with it.’
‘I wouldn’t have said anything anyway,’ Angie said.
‘It literally means “pick me up”,’ Dave announced, taking his bowl.
‘What?’ Barry asked.
‘In Italian. That’s what “tiramisu” means. I think it’s because of the booze, which is usually Marsala wine, but you can also use rum or cognac.’
‘Where d’you learn all this stuff?’
‘I don’t know.’ Dave started eating. ‘Just know it.’
There were grunts of approval as everyone tucked in. Ed was busy refilling glasses where needed. They had already put away three bottles of wine and this despite the fact that Sue and Dave were barely drinking. They began talking about a sex scandal involving a politician who had resigned to spend more time with his family. Ed said that was the excuse they always gave.
‘Maybe it’s true,’ Marina said.
‘No smoke without fire,’ Ed said.
Sue got up to fetch another bottle and, as she passed his chair, Ed slid an arm around her waist and asked her to see if she could dig out ‘a cheeky little number’ from the ‘cellar’.
That made Angie laugh. ‘I like cheeky numbers,’ she said.
Barry had been staring at Dave ever since the lecture on Italian cuisine and language. ‘Come on then. Why don’t you tell everyone what you told that copper?’
‘Oh, come on, mate,’ Ed said. ‘We don’t want to get into all that.’
‘Seeing as you seem to know so much,’ Barry said.
‘All what?’ Angie asked.
‘Oh, Dave here has got all these theories about what happened to that girl, what the killer did to her, all that.’
‘I never talked about anything like that,’ Dave said.
‘He really didn’t,’ Marina said.
Ed pushed his empty bowl away and threw up his hands. ‘Why can’t we just stick with the pervy politician?’
‘What do you mean, talking to that copper?’ Angie asked.
‘He reckons she was asking him what he thought,’ Barry said. ‘Like he was some kind of police consultant or something.’
‘Go on then,’ Angie said.
‘Please don’t get him started on all that.’ Marina shook her head.
‘I’d like
to hear it.’
‘I just said …’ Dave put his spoon down. ‘I just said that I thought she was abducted in a car and that she was probably killed quickly.’
‘Why quickly?’ Angie asked.
‘It’s more likely, that’s all.’
Sue came back in with the wine. ‘What have I missed?’
Ed nodded to Dave. ‘Detective Dave’s on the case,’ he said. ‘Giving us his theories.’
‘They’re talking about Amber-Marie,’ Angie said, as Sue sat down.
‘All right then,’ Sue said.
‘So, why wouldn’t he keep her for a while?’ Ed asked. ‘You know, have some fun with her?’
Marina said, ‘Fun?’
Ed shrugged. ‘I’m just trying to think like the killer.’ Sue looked at him and he pointed at Dave. ‘Listen, he started this.’
‘Even so,’ Sue said.
‘I’ll do what I want,’ Ed said. ‘All right?’
Sue smiled.
‘I never suggested talking about this,’ Dave said. ‘I’m perfectly happy not to.’
Angie leaned towards him. Said, ‘Isn’t it usually some kind of sex thing?’
‘The police could tell,’ Barry said. ‘DNA or whatever.’
‘No.’ Dave shook his head. ‘She was in the water for weeks, so there wouldn’t have been any forensic evidence worth talking about.’
‘Surely they could get something,’ Angie said. ‘Like on CSI, I mean they’ve got all this amazing equipment these days, haven’t they?’
‘That’s just a TV show,’ Dave said. ‘All that time in the water, there wouldn’t have been much of her worth testing. You’d be amazed at what water can do to a body, what it looks like afterwards. Plus there’s all the wildlife out there. Crabs and possums and all that. Insects and scavengers helping themselves to what was left of her.’ He saw the look on Marina’s face. ‘They asked me …’
‘So, if it wasn’t sexual,’ Sue said, ‘why was she taken? What was the motive?’
Dave shrugged. ‘Sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.’
‘What’s that in English money?’ Ed asked, grinning. ‘About forty grand?’
‘Not knowing the motive’s what makes him difficult to catch,’ Dave said.
‘So, is he a serial killer then?’ Angie asked. ‘Somebody who’s done this thing before?’
‘I reckon so.’ Dave sniffed. ‘And somebody who’s likely to do it again.’
‘He’ll make a mistake,’ Marina said. ‘They always do.’
Dave shook his head again. ‘Yeah, in films, but there’s loads who never get caught or else get away with it for years. It’s always the ones you least expect, as well. Your best mate or the bloke next door who looks like he wouldn’t say boo to a goose.’
Angie gave a theatrical shudder. ‘Makes you think, doesn’t it? I mean, nobody knows anyone really, do they?’
‘I know one thing,’ Ed said. He turned towards Sue. ‘Somebody’s going to get a smacked backside if they don’t go and put a pot of coffee on.’
‘Your wish is my command,’ Sue said, pushing her chair back.
‘Anybody else?’
‘We should hit the road,’ Dave said.
‘Actually, I wouldn’t mind a coffee,’ Marina said. ‘D’you mind, babe?’
‘Any chance of a cappuccino?’ Angie asked.
‘Sorry, we keep meaning to get one of those bloody machines,’ Sue said.
Ed looked at Sue, like it was all her fault. ‘Shame, I fancy one of those too.’
‘Never mind,’ Angie said. ‘If you can find me a straw, I’ll blow bubbles into it for you.’
‘You hear that, Barry?’ Ed said. ‘Your wife’s offering to give me a blow job.’
Barry’s spoon clattered into his bowl so loudly that Marina jumped a little and let out a gasp. He looked at Ed for a few seconds, then pushed his chair back hard and stood up fast. Ed flinched as Barry lunged towards him, and managed a weak laugh when Barry did no more than playfully slap him on the cheek.
‘Bloody hell,’ Ed said, when he had recovered himself. He was laughing a little more now. ‘I thought he was going to deck me.’
Barry smiled. Said, ‘I still might.’
‘You see?’ Angie said. ‘What did I tell you? Nobody really knows anyone.’
THIRTY-NINE
Jeff Gardner called his wife from a motel near Hartsfield-Jackson airport in Atlanta.
‘How was it?’ she asked.
‘She did pretty well, considering,’ Gardner said.
‘That’s good.’
‘I know she’s putting on a show though.’
‘Of course. I can’t imagine …’
Gardner did not tell his wife that he could. Because he’d stood sweating on that hot tarmac as the casket had been lifted down from the hold and imagined that it was his little girl inside. Their little girl. He did not tell her that he had a pretty good idea what that hole inside yourself felt like when you lost a child. That for Patti Lee Wilson it seemed as though she would never be a complete person again, as though every time she laughed or talked about something ordinary it would be no more than a trick she had taught herself.
‘Wait, shouldn’t you be on the plane already?’
‘She wants me to stay for the funeral tomorrow,’ he said.
‘Oh.’
‘I told her I needed to get back.’
‘Right, we’re supposed to be seeing my mom and dad tonight.’
‘I think I should though,’ he said. ‘Stay, I mean.’
Michelle said nothing.
‘I’ve found a cheap place near the airport and there’s a flight I can get right after the service. Honey …?’
Michelle said OK, and that she understood, but he knew that she really didn’t. He asked about their daughter and his wife’s voice was colourless when she told him that she was doing fine. She asked, ‘Who’s going to read her the tiger story tonight?’
‘Look, I’m sorry.’
‘You know she’s only happy if you do it.’
‘It’s one night.’
‘I can’t do all the voices the way you can.’
Gardner did not know if there had been a story Patti Lee had liked to read for Amber-Marie, if she had done voices. But there would have been rituals and shared moments, silly things that the woman would certainly be thinking about the following day when she finally said goodbye.
‘I need to be there,’ he said.
‘You’re not her friend, Jeff.’
‘For me as much as her, OK? I feel like I’ve let her down.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘I think she’s been let down too many times in her life,’ he said. ‘And this is something I can do. It’s really not such a big deal, we can rearrange with your parents …’ He told her that he loved her and to give his little girl a big kiss. He told her that he would probably get something to eat at the motel and that he would call her in the morning.
He said, ‘We’ve got a lot to be thankful for.’
When he had hung up, he lay back on the thin mattress and turned the pages of the laminated motel services guide. Thinking about trying to find a decent bar and the look on Patti Lee Wilson’s face when he told her that he would be coming to the funeral.
‘Appreciate it,’ she said. ‘Really, I do.’
The decision made, he had taken another beer from her and they had talked for another hour or so. From what she told him, just having one more person inside that little church was going to make a real difference.
In the end, Jenny had decided to stay in. Her flatmate was out on the razzle which made the decision easier, but she was happy enough with a few glasses of wine and the TV, even though there had been nothing on but reality shows and chick-flicks and she had eaten rather more of what was in the fridge than she would have liked.
A lot more, in fact.
She got into bed with one of those crime novels whose disregard for even the most basic elements of police
procedure drove her crazy. She was keeping a note of all the inaccuracies and one day she fully intended to contact the writer and let him know. After only ten minutes of reading, her eyes felt scratchy and she had read the same paragraph three times, so she turned off the light.
She lay there, struggling to get comfortable and unable to sleep despite her exhaustion, knowing that her flatmate would probably wake her up when she came back in. Cackling with girlfriends or with some horny junior doctor.
They were what, five hours behind in Florida? She imagined Detective Jeff Gardner getting home from work about now. Taking off his gun and settling down to dinner with his wife.
Was he married?
For a few moments she considered getting up to see if she could find any clues on the internet. Perhaps if she blew up that picture she had found, she might be able to see if there was a wedding ring or not.
She could imagine what Steph would say, and stayed where she was.
If he was married, she wondered if he had mentioned her to his wife. She wondered if he had bothered looking her up; he would probably have done so out of curiosity if nothing else.
She finally drifted away, asking herself if there were any pictures of her floating around out there in cyberspace, and when she was woken by music from the living room, a glance at her bedside clock told her that she had only been asleep for forty minutes.
She listened. Mumford & Sons … laughter … the low notes of a man’s voice.
The horny junior doctor.
Bitch!
FORTY
They were both well over the limit, but as Angie had drunk marginally less than Barry, she had been the one to take the keys to the Range Rover when they left the Dunnings’ in Southgate. Despite Barry’s insistence that driving slowly was even more suspicious than weaving all over the road, she stuck to a steady sixty miles an hour, even on an all-but-deserted stretch of the M25.
When he wasn’t moaning about how long the drive home was taking, he was bitching about the last few hours he was ‘never going to get back’.
‘There’s definitely something off about that pair,’ he said.
‘Which pair are we talking about?’
‘Yeah, well, could be either of them, but I was talking about Sue and Ed.’
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