“They look heavy,” said Eva.
“Ah, yes. My day’s been eventful too,” said Joanne as she dumped her over-stuffed bags by the front desk. Eva rubbed her temples and gave the girl a quizzical look.
“Remember I took your advice about the council job?” said Joanne. “I ended up going to see my boss. I can’t say it went well but at least it’s over with.”
“Over with? Already?” said Eva.
“They’ve cancelled my contract immediately. By mutual agreement. I didn’t really have a leg to stand on. I couldn’t provide the doctor’s notes they wanted, and my boss knew I wasn’t ill. Never mind. I suppose I milked it enough, but now the cash cow has finally gone. I don’t think I’ll be using the council for references anytime soon.”
“No problem there. You can use us instead,” said Eva. “But I didn’t mean you should quit the council that quickly! I meant you should think about it.”
“But you were right, Eva. I didn’t need that hanging over me.”
“Just one more reason Tobias Falk should start paying you as soon as possible.”
Eva eyes dropped to the wine bottles
“To be honest, I’m a bit busy right now,” said Eva.
Joanne’s eyes followed Eva’s down to the carrier bag. “Yes, I can see that. Which is why I came to see you. I’ve got a confession to make. I called another of your old teachers. Mr Carlton gave me her number, so I thought I’d follow up on it, just in case.”
“Joanne,” said Eva. “We’ve already been through this.”
“Look, I can see what this case is doing to you. I want to help… Does the name Mrs Gernahue mean anything to you?”
Eva’s eyes glazed in thought. “Yes. I remember her. She was one of the nice ones.”
“She spoke very highly of you. And Mrs Gernahue doesn’t just remember you, she told me exactly what happened that day in your rural science lesson. The day when you threw a garden fork at that boy.”
Eva winced and her eyes flashed.
“Jake Ellis,” said Eva. “Why go and drag that up right now?”
“Dragging that up wasn’t the point, and it wasn’t the old woman’s point either.”
“That old incident is nothing – just ancient history. Ever since Lauren reappeared I’ve been dwelling on all that old stuff, and for a while, it seemed to matter. But not now. After what I’ve seen, I know that Lauren came off a lot worse than me.”
Joanne looked at Eva, frowning. “What you’ve seen? What do you that mean by that?”
“You were right about France, Joanne. Lauren did go there. And she did spend some time in mental health facility in Reuil-Malmaison. There may have even been some kind of incident, although Lauren denies it. She said she followed some boy to France, and it went wrong. Most affairs do when you’re young.”
“Hasn’t she lied to you already?”
“But I saw it in black and white. A medical report. A psychologist said she’d been suffering ever since we stopped being friends. Now, I’ve hated Lauren for a long time, Joanne. But seeing that her life has been ruined – that she doesn’t even know how to be normal… and on top of that Jamie Blane is trying to have her killed – how can I hate her anymore? She doesn’t need that. She needs me to help her.”
“Eva, I’m sorry, but I really think you’re getting this wrong.”
“I don’t need this,” said Eva. “Not from you, and not right now.”
“Wait. Give me a chance.”
“No. That day you mentioned, the rural science lesson. That day I made one huge mistake. I could have killed that lad. But Lauren Jaeger’s been making mistakes ever since. She doesn’t know how to stop.”
“Eva, this isn’t about you making a mistake. Mrs Gernahue saw everything from a window at your old school. She saw Lauren Jaeger whispering in your ear moments before you threw that fork. Even then, it wasn’t you, Eva. Lauren manipulated you. She talked you into it. Can you not see how that matters? She hasn’t changed.”
Eva stared at Joanne and blinked her weary eyes. “So, she’s a manipulator. I get it. I know that much already.”
“It’s worse than that, Eva. Think about it. Think about how she gets inside your head.”
Eva looked down at her desk and tried to ignore the call of the wine.
“Seems like you want to get inside my head as well. Mrs Gernahue. I remember her,” said Eva. “Her classroom was in the portacabins. And those portacabins were a huge distance from the allotments. She couldn’t have had any idea what happened that day.”
“She saw it happen, she described it to me. How else would I know? She said she didn’t need to hear it. She had a perfect view.”
“Then maybe her memory isn’t what it was,” said Eva.
“And maybe you’re choosing to ignore the facts. Perhaps Lauren has gotten into your head all over again.”
“People are trying to kill her, Joanne. That isn’t made up. Today a car tried to run her down right in front of me.”
Joanne swallowed and pressed on. “Even so… even if she is a victim in this, there’s no reason why you should become one too.”
“Go back to work, Joanne. Go back to work and earn a living. That’s what you need to do now. You’ve proved you’re a decent investigator. I know you keep a lot of secrets, you don’t have the right to dig into all of mine.”
Joanne blushed. “Wait. Mrs Gernahue said you throwing that fork only made sense afterwards.”
“Made sense after what?”
“Not long after that, Lauren cut you off. Soon after, Mrs Gernahue said Lauren turned into a bully and started hanging around with some very bad people.”
“You’re only confirming what I already know. I lived through it. I was there..”
“But she bullied Mrs Gernahue too. Did you know that? By age sixteen Lauren was scaring the woman stiff. That’s why the old girl went off with stress…”
“Yes,” said Eva, her eyes glazing. “I do remember she took a sabbatical. You’re saying Lauren did that?
Joanne nodded. “And it doesn’t end there. Mrs Gernahue said she took an interest in Lauren’s life after she left school because Lauren had done so much to harm her. Like she was paranoid about Lauren coming back into her life. The old woman knew that Lauren took a couple of jobs which didn’t end well, then the last she heard of Lauren was when she went to France. Lauren was eighteen, or maybe nineteen… Shortly after she got there something really bad happened, Eva.”
“Lauren will tell me about it when she’s ready,” said Eva. “And if she doesn’t, I don’t care.”
Joanne took a breath and kept her eyes on Eva’s, willing the truth to sink in.
“Mr Carlton spoke of an incident, right? But he couldn’t tell me much. Which is why he gave me Mrs Gernahue’s number. And she was very guarded too. Even Mrs Gernahue skirted around parts of it. But I’m telling you, from what Gernahue and Carlton implied, Lauren did something seriously bad on the Paris Metro. I pressed the old woman about it but she wouldn’t tell me. But it whatever it was, get this – it was enough to get her sectioned into the French mental health system. And look at the gap in her life history – we don’t know anything about her between the ages of nineteen and twenty-nine. Do you?”
Eva frowned in thought. She didn’t say a word.
“I thought not. I think this explains the gap. Lauren could have been stuck in the French mental health system for a whole ten years, because her traceable history only restarts when she appears in Jamie Blane’s life.”
“You really think she could have been in that system for ten years?” The look on Eva’s face said Joanne had hit the wrong key.
“Wait, Eva, none of this is on you. Don’t start blaming yourself. The woman was deeply unwell. The Paris Metro incident, whatever that is –you had no part in it, no guilt to carry, so don’t go there.”
“I’ve seen the report, Joanne. I read it. I should have been more understanding with her. It’s the job, it’s made me too cynica
l..”
“No, Eva. You’re not cynical enough. I’m sure the woman’s still playing you, even now, and you’re refusing to see it.”
Eva stiffened in her seat. “She deserves a second chance… Lauren, you, me, Dan. Everyone does.”
“But you don’t know her, Eva. You haven’t known her for twenty years.”
“That’s enough,” said Eva, firmly. “I’ve seen the report.” Eva’ thought of the sheets of the copied report scattered all over the dirty Romford floor. There’d been more to be read, but she hadn’t had time. “I know enough,” said Eva. “They are trying to kill her. That’s what matters.”
“And what is she trying to do, Eva? Do you know?”
“She’s trying to survive.”
“And what if she came back for more than that? Come on, Eva? Why did she come to you? Deep down you must see this isn’t right.”
“You’re wrong. Mrs Gernahue has an axe to grind, Lauren bullied her, I can see that. And you’ve got no proof – but I’ve seen her report. I have to go with the facts.”
“Think, Eva, everything she’s done since she showed up. Has any of that been good?”
“Enough, Joanne, go back to your job, go back to Falk, and let him put those skills to work.”
Eva offered a thin smile. “I want us to be friends, Joanne, but this can’t go on.”
Joanne’s eyes were glossy, tears threatening to fall.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Just one last thing.”
Eva sighed.
“I’ve been looking at Alice Perry too.”
“Alice Perry now?!”
Joanne shrugged. “I know she’s caused a lot of trouble for you and Dan. But I think she’s getting into some even worse things—”
“Joanne, I haven’t got room in my head to deal with that right now…”
“Okay, okay,” said Joanne, raising her hands, backing away as she spoke. “I’m going. But think about this. Remember the so-called Robert Poulter lead? I think Perry was involved in it somehow.”
Eva said nothing for a moment. “I’ll look at it when this is done.”
Joanne nodded. “Just remember, I tried, okay?”
“I’ll remember,” said Eva.
The girl hefted the bags up into her hands then clawed the door wide open, hooking her ankle around it. She gave Eva one last smile before she went out onto the street.
“See you soon, Joanne.” Joanne didn’t say a word. She turned and walked away.
Eva puffed her cheeks and blew out a long slow breath. When Joanne was out of sight, she pulled the wine bottle from the bag and went to the kitchen to fetch a mug. A cup of wine was no longer an indulgence. It was essential.
Fourteen
Mark and Dan waited outside the front door of number fifty-three Carberry Close. The Mellot house was one of several large cream-rendered properties dotted around the looping street. They watched as a shadow appeared behind the window of the uPVC front door. A slight, female shadow. Almost ghostlike, the woman’s face came close to the glass, peering at them before she hesitantly opened the door. There was a plate and a tea-towel in the woman’s hand. Mrs Mellot had big hollow eyes and gave them a look which seemed neither welcoming nor friendly. The woman was in her forties, pretty but not beautiful, with eyes as dark as Dan’s. More than a few strands of grey had been allowed to appear in the woman’s fringe. Her dark eyes flicked between Dan and Mark, gaining a hint of concern the longer she looked.
“Yes. Can I help you?” she said.
“I hope so,” said Dan, offering his best attempt at a disarming smile. The woman looked at him, and he saw something soften in her eyes but she remained defensive.
“We’re investigating some trouble on your street.”
“Investigating? You don’t look much like the police to me.”
“That’s because we’re not. We’re private investigators.”
The doubtful look on the woman’s face prompted Dan to pull a business card from his wallet. He handed it to the woman and adjusted his smile to just a shade below full beam.
“There. See?”
“Roberts and Bradley?” she said. “I’ve never heard of you. And anyone can get business cards like these knocked up on the Internet.”
“Not quite like these, I assure you. My partner couldn’t be persuaded to go down the bargain basement route.”
“Hmmm,” said the woman. “So this is your partner?”
“No. This is Mark, my assistant. My partner is working elsewhere today.”
The woman was still doubtful. Dan pressed on. “Look. There’s been some trouble on your street. I don’t suppose you’ve noticed anything at all.”
“Trouble? It depends what sort of trouble you mean. There was a spate of burglaries a couple of years back. But nothing like that since. Just a lot of strangeness from over there on the other side of the close but I could hardly call it trouble. Not for us, anyway.”
The woman aimed her dark eyes towards Ronson’s house. Dan followed her gaze.
“Strangeness, you say?”
The woman nodded. “I don’t like to cast aspersions, so maybe you’d best tell me what you’re investigating – and who for…?”
“Let’s just say we’re concerned about some of the things going on in those houses over there..”
“You mean the house with the bohemians in it, or whatever they are,” said the woman. “I’m no snob, but those people are really not my type. A few more like them and next it will be the students moving in. Before you know it, it’ll be greasy hair, funny cigarettes and football flags everywhere you look.”
No, Mrs Mellot wasn’t a snob in the least.
“I know what you mean,” said Dan. “Might bring the house prices down a notch or two.”
“Yes, it would. That lot? They stay up all hours and they have so many people round, it’s like Piccadilly Circus. But what can you do? I’m only glad we don’t have to live next door to them.”
“How long have they been on the street?” said Dan.
“A year or so. And their crowd seems to have changed a bit during that time. I think the main one, the man with the bleached hair, he’s changed his girlfriend at least once since then.”
So, the woman was the community guardian type. A nosy neighbourhood-watcher without the communal spirit of the real thing. Every street had one or two of them. Some were nosy because of loneliness, but this woman seemed nosy for the gossip value and the comfort it provided. But Dan saw something else in the woman’s eyes. He noticed it whenever he saw her eyes dart across the street. If he wanted to know what she was thinking, he needed to tread softly.
“Their crowd has changed? What did you mean by that?” said Dan.
“That there’s more of them than there used to be. More visitors, and they bring all kinds of bags and get-up. I don’t know what they do in there with all that kit. I suppose they could be DJs or something? They look the sort – rock ’n’ roll types – don’t you think?”
“But you’ve never spoken to them?”
The woman shook her head. “What’s there to talk about with people like that? It’s obvious I’ve got nothing in common with them. And at that man’s age – he can’t be much younger than you or me – he should have sorted himself out and got a proper job by now. I’ve got nothing to say to any of them. We’re good working people. I just hope they move on soon.”
“Sounds like they really do cause you some concern.”
“In a way. Though I’m much more concerned for my daughter than anything else.”
Bingo. Dan scented a target and started to move in.
“Your daughter?”
“Yes, my daughter, Kitty. She’s so curious about people, she’s curious about everything really, and if there’s one thing I can’t stop with Kitty it’s her inquisitiveness. It’s the root of all the scrapes she gets into.”
Dan smiled. “Being curious isn’t such a bad thing. It’s one of the reasons I ended up doing this job. Tha
t and trying to bring a little justice into the world.”
“Justice? Surely, you’d have joined the police if you were interested in justice.”
Dan shrugged. “That’s like a choice between justice and bureaucracy – rules for the sake of rules. I know which version I prefer, Mrs Mellot.”
“You know my name?” said the woman, surprised.
“I am a private investigator,” said Dan. “Your daughter – has this curiosity got her into any problems with the people over there?”
“Why do you ask that?” said the woman.
“Because of the look in your eye whenever you happen to look over that way.”
The woman paused to read Dan’s face.
“She talks to them, of course… But then she talks to everyone. I’ve told her time and again not to bother with them, but what good does it do? I’m only her mother.”
“Every generation is the same. We have to make our own mistakes.”
“But my Kitty is only ten years old – going on twenty-one. She’s already discovered boys and pop music and talks to complete bloody strangers and she’s not even at senior school yet. I dread to think what I’m in for when she reaches her teens. All I know is that she’s far too young to get mixed up with people like that.”
“I couldn’t agree more. So, do they hassle your daughter at all?”
The woman looked at Dan and put a hand to her throat. His words seemed to be causing a reaction. She looked guarded for a second, and then she softened again.
“Do you know something about them that I should know?”
“Only that you’re right about them not being your type. They’re not mine either.”
The woman nodded. “I’ve seen her talking to them, but that’s it. And I always have a word with her about it. But to be honest, I think you’re looking in the wrong direction.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s always the quiet ones,” she said. “Isn’t that what they say? That man over there, the twitchy little fellow with the spectacles. Penfold is what my husband calls him.”
“Your husband doesn’t like him?”
“Why should he? Look at him. Look. There he goes now.”
Play With Fire Page 21