The Lies Within

by Jane Isaac

  “How much of a falling out?”

  “Grace’s dog was attacked and she blamed Faye. Made a formal complaint here on the 4th of January. One of the community officers went out to speak to Faye. The statement has sat on their desk since.”

  “Does Grace have an alibi for the night before last?”

  “She was at home with her husband. He recently suffered a double heart attack and is recovering.”

  “Any witnesses?”

  “We put out a press release for witnesses last night and have started house to house in the area,” Wilson said. “Nothing yet.”

  “No sexual motive? Nothing missing from the house that might indicate a burglary gone wrong?”

  Wilson shook her head. “Celeste examined her yesterday evening and could find no evidence of a recent sexual encounter and no defensive bruising to speak of. The television and laptop are still in place. Flat appears untouched, although to be honest there’s not much of value in there.”

  Jackman turned back to the photos of the victim on the board, the knife still wedged in the side of her neck. Below them was a photo retrieved from her mantelpiece. The camera had caught her on centre, she was laughing, her white teeth glistening against a backdrop of blonde hair, an attractive smile. “What do we know about the victim?”

  “No convictions. Looks like there might be some intelligence. The systems are down at the moment, the techies are working on it, but we’ll check as soon as it’s back up.”

  “Right, let’s look into Faye Campbell’s background. Who were her friends, family? Where had she been living? Who did she associate with? Make sure the search of the flat is thorough. Get them to tear the floorboards up, go through the drainage system if they have too, I don’t want anything missed.”

  A familiar face appeared as he finished up. “Ah, DCI Jackman. Can I see you for a minute?”

  He’d been relieved to find Carmela absent on his arrival that morning. The team welcomed him like an old friend, asked after the health of his wife. By the time they’d shared a round of coffee and were into briefing, it was almost like he’d never been away. Although, this was the one encounter in Leicestershire that he hadn’t been looking forward to. And there was no familiarity in Carmela’s face right now, no warmth.

  She’d sent a couple of texts after he’d left Leicestershire. The first enquiring about his welfare, sending her regards. The second arrived a week or so later, saying she would be in Warwickshire the following day, to text if he wanted to meet up. He’d tried to phone. Several times. When she didn’t answer, he’d responded to her text to say, he was sorry, but he didn’t think it was a good idea right now, that he needed to focus on his family. On Alice.

  He wrapped up the meeting and she said nothing, marching slightly ahead of him as they navigated the corridor and up the stairs. When they reached her office, she waited until he’d crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. They stood in the open office.

  “I was sorry to hear about Alice,” Carmela said. “How is she?”

  “We’re not completely sure. But she is out of danger.” The top button of her shirt was undone, showing a generous portion of cleavage. He snapped his gaze away.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  He gave a slightly confused nod. She’d personally requested his presence on the case. Surely she wasn’t now questioning his capabilities?

  “Good.” Her face relaxed but her tone was still cutting. “I brought you back here for one reason only, because of your experience on the Lamborne case. With all the bad press we’ve had recently, I need this new case brought to a speedy conclusion. Keep me updated of any developments.” She opened the door for him to leave. “Thank you.”

  Jackman stared at her for a split second, shook his head and wandered out. The door slammed behind him. He knew it had got out of hand that night in his kitchen, but his family were his priority right now. He’d thought he’d made that clear. The unfastened button on her shirt pressed on him as Janus’ earlier comments rang in his ear, ‘She certainly knows what she wants.’ He trudged back down to the office. Well, people didn’t always get what they wanted.

  ***

  “Lydia’ll be down in a minute,” Grace said as she smiled at Meggy and placed a plate of biscuits on the coffee table.

  “Party rings!” the toddler exclaimed. “My favourite.”

  “I remembered.” Grace winked at her, and then turned to Chloe. “Lydia’s got a surprise for you.”

  A thump of footsteps on the stairs sounded, followed by Lydia’s face appearing around the doorframe.

  Chloe gasped. “You had your hair cut!”

  Grace had shared the same gasp when her youngest daughter had arrived home earlier that morning. No discussion, no warning. Gone were the long strands of glossy fair hair, replaced by a short spiky crop.

  Lydia ran her hands through it, turned her head from one side to another. “What do you think?”

  The toddler pouted. “You cut your princess hair.”

  “Meggy. Don’t be rude. It suits you,” Chloe said. “Just can’t believe you didn’t mention it.”

  Lydia shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Thought I’d surprise everybody.” She squeezed into the armchair beside Chloe and fell into conversation while Meggy helped herself to another biscuit. Time passed easily. Phil joined them. Meggy climbed onto his knee and he read her a story. Grace relaxed and sipped her coffee. It was good to have her family together.

  “Meggy, don’t do that,” Chloe said. The toddler was back on the floor and patting Lucky, a little too vigorously. Chloe leant down, held her hand and they stroked the dog gently together.

  “Come on, let’s go and wash your hands,” Lydia said to the toddler.

  Chloe watched her daughter traipse out of the room and looked up towards Grace. “Isn’t it awful about Faye?”

  Grace nodded. “Dreadful. I can’t quite believe it.”

  “Do the police know what happened?”

  “I don’t know. They didn’t say much when they came out. Only that her body had been found in her flat.”

  “I heard on the news she’d been stabbed,” Chloe added, just as Lydia wandered back in with Meggy.

  Lydia excused herself to go upstairs to do some homework.

  “She’s struggling with it all.” Grace said to Chloe after she’d gone.

  “I didn’t think she liked her.”

  “She didn’t dislike her. I think Faye was just around at the wrong time. And another death of someone close to the family… It’s upsetting for all of us.”

  “The police came to see me,” Chloe said. “I’d only met her a few times.”

  “We all gave statements,” Grace said. “I don’t think she had many friends. Sad really.”

  Chapter Sixty

  “The preliminary forensics report is through,” McDonald said. “A number of hair samples that don’t belong to Faye have been picked up.”

  It was early afternoon and Jackman had called an impromptu briefing for an update. “Anything else?”

  McDonald leafed through a few more pages. “There’s a DNA match on file with Faye Campbell. A match with the spot of blood on the earring, found at the Jo Lamborne murder scene.”

  “The evil eye. Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Has anybody recovered the other earring?”

  “It seems not.”

  “That’s not all,” Wilson said. “CSIs found a box hidden beneath the floorboards in the victim’s bedroom.” She clicked a button on her laptop and immediately a photo of a cardboard box, the corners of the flaps curled where they’d been folded together, filled the screen in front of them. The screen changed to another photo of a map of Leicestershire, a belt, a phallic sex toy, a pair of stilettos. Wilson listed these items as the contents of the box.

  Murmurs gathered momentum as they spread around the room. Jackman squinted, trying to focus on what was beneath the objects. It looked
like a blue exercise book, the sort that students used in school. He pointed at it. “What’s that?”

  Wilson pressed a button, starting a slide show. Photo after photo flashed up on the screen. The book contained pictures of Eugenie Trentwood and Jo Lamborne. Photos taken from various angles in shops, cafés, at bus stops. Some from a distance, some fairly close. Either the girls were ignoring the lens, or they were completely oblivious to it. As the show progressed, the photos became more sordid: Eugenie laid on the ground, unconscious, her skirt hitched up around her waist, a close-up of the bruising on her face. Jo’s naked body at the murder scene, porcelain under the glistening moonlight, was the final photo.

  Parsons closed her dropped jaw. “She kept a picture diary?”

  “Somebody did,” Jackman said. “Any news on that intelligence?”

  “No criminal record, but a string of complaints about Faye Campbell on file,” Parsons said. “In 2002 there was a complaint made about her taking money from an elderly lady. No action taken as the complaint was initiated by the victim’s family. The alleged victim refused to press charges. Two harassment warnings, one in 2005 and another in 2010. The first, a man. The second, a woman.”

  “What happened?”

  “Details were logged on the system, but no other action taken, apart from the warnings. There’s not much on there, to be honest. Names, dates. That’s about it.”

  “See if you can trace the complainants, will you? Find out more details. And check with other forces to see if they have anything? We’ll need to trace her NHS number too. Grace implied Faye was delusional, she’d apparently pretended to live at another address, on Fairfax Road. Does she have a medical history of psychiatric problems? And get a production order on the support group that Jo attended in Market Harborough. Some of those members still haven’t come forward.”

  Jackman turned back to the room. “What else do we know?”

  “Faye’s phone was cell sited in Harborough town the night Jo Lamborne was murdered,” Wilson said. “The number matches texts found on Jo’s phone, but we hadn’t been able to trace it earlier because it was unregistered.”

  Jackman looked back at the last photo on the screen. Was it Faye that Jo approached on the other side of the road the night she was killed? Her height and build certainly matched the description, although a black hoody wasn’t listed in the inventory of materials recorded at the flat. “Check the transactions on Faye Campbell’s credit card, will you? Does she have any insurance? We know she doesn’t own a car, but she’d have needed a vehicle to transport the body.”

  Wilson echoed the room’s thoughts. “Why would Faye Campbell kill Grace Daniels’ daughter, and in such a horrific way?”

  “That’s what we need to find out,” Jackman said. “But one thing’s for sure. It gives Grace the perfect motive.”

  ***

  “Can you tell me where you were on the night of Monday the 11th of January?”

  Grace had been in the kitchen kneading bread when the detectives arrived that evening, and let Phil answer the door while she washed her hands. Parsons had crossed the threshold accompanied by another detective Grace didn’t recognise. There were no smiles today, no reassurance as Parsons arrested her on suspicion of Faye’s murder. Grace’s mind had gone blank. She could barely even remember the drive to the police station. It wasn’t until she was standing in the custody suite, asked to relay her name, address and advised of her right to legal representation, that the true extent of the situation hit her. She hadn’t stopped shaking since.

  “I’ve already answered these questions.”

  “For the tape, please?” Jackman continued.

  “I was at home with Phil, all evening.”

  “Ah, yes. We’ve interviewed Mr Daniels. He admitted he went to bed early.”

  “He’s getting used to some new medication. He gets tired easily.”

  “For his heart condition?”

  “Yes.”

  Jackman nodded. “But he can’t confirm you were there.”

  “I was there.”

  “Are you sure there isn’t anybody else that can vouch for you?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever visited Faye’s home on Western Avenue?”

  “Yes, on Monday afternoon. I already told the other detective-”

  “Monday the 11th of January?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many times?”

  “Just the once.”

  “What time did you arrive? And what time did you leave?”

  Grace thought hard. “I didn’t check the clock, but it must have been about 1 o’clock when I arrived. I only stayed a few minutes.”

  “And you had an argument?”

  Grace gave a small nod.

  “Tell me, what that was about?”

  Grace relayed the details of her visit to Faye that afternoon. As she spoke the words, Faye’s menacing glare crept into her mind.

  “How would you describe your feelings at the time?”

  “I was angry, of course. But not enough to kill her. I’d never do anything like that.”

  Jackman retrieved a clear plastic wallet from the file on the table in front of him. “I’m showing Grace Daniels Exhibit BRO123A. This is a statement from Faye Campbell’s neighbour in which she states she saw a woman of your description visit Faye’s home at approximately 22.30 on the evening of-”

  “It wasn’t me,” Grace interrupted. “She must be mistaken.”

  Jackman pulled out a bundle of photographs. “I’m showing Grace Daniels Exhibit BRO125A and 130A.” The photographs were of the items in the box found in Faye’s flat.

  Grace cringed, turned away. The revelations disorientated her. “I don’t understand, have you got some news on Jo?”

  “Are you sure there isn’t anything else you’d like to tell us?” Jackman said.

  “What?” Grace glanced at her solicitor.

  “If you’ve some new evidence, Chief Inspector, I think you need to share it with us,” her solicitor said.

  “These items,” he pointed at the photographs, one by one, “were found in Faye Campbell’s house.”

  Grace’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m not with you.”

  “We believe Faye was an associate of Jo’s. We believe she was in Market Harborough town centre the night Jo died.”

  “What?”

  “We have reason to believe that Faye Campbell was involved in the death of your daughter.”

  Grace stared at the photos in front of her. Beads of sweat merged together on her forehead, trickling to her brow line. She tasted bile but sat there frozen, unable to move or fight it. Instead she turned, opened her mouth and watched as the vomit splashed across the floor.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Later that evening, Wilson stooped to switch off the footage after the team had re-watched Grace’s interview together.

  McDonald was the first to break the silence. “She didn’t know,” he said.

  Carmela raised her eyes from the desk in front of her. “That’s a bold statement.”

  “You saw the look of horror on her face.”

  “Maybe she’s playing us?”

  “If she didn’t know, she didn’t have a motive.”

  “She was spotted in the vicinity that evening.”

  Jackman turned back to the board. He’d barely spoken to Carmela since their meeting on his first morning back, but her growing presence at briefings was starting to grate.

  “Let’s go back to the beginning,” he said, cutting through their argument. “We need to understand Faye’s relationship with Jo and Grace, her motivation for being involved with Jo’s death. What do we know about Faye’s background?”

  “Very little,” Parsons said. “Neighbours say she kept herself to herself. Parents died when she was young, no siblings and no other family to speak of. Her movements for the last few weeks don’t tell us much either. She stayed with Grace for a while after Christmas because she was having some work done a
t home to replace a broken boiler.”

  “And was it really broken?”

  “The flat has a very old boiler. There are no signs of any recent work. Since moving back from Grace’s, she’s barely left her flat according to the neighbours. The only contacts on her mobile are a few texts and a call from Grace, and several very short phone calls she’s made back.”

  “What about the intelligence?”

  “McDonald and I have spoken to the complainants.” Parsons rested her notebook on the table, licked her thumb and forefinger and leafed through the pages until she found what she was looking for. “The first complaint related to an elderly lady named Caroline Welsh in 2002. Caroline passed away in 2004, but I did manage to speak to her daughter who lives in France. She said Faye befriended her mother, carried out chores, did her shopping. The family thought Faye was helping until they came over from France to visit and discovered that the elderly woman’s savings, almost £5,000, had disappeared. They blamed Faye, ended her contact with their mother and reported it to the police, although her mother refused to press charges, claiming they were friends and she had gifted the money to Faye to buy some furniture she needed for her own home. No action was taken.”

  Parsons turned a page and continued. “In 2005, we received a complaint from a man she had been dating. He’d broken off their relationship after a four month affair and claimed she was obsessed. She’d moved herself in, was using his credit cards. When he finally kicked her out she kept ringing him, putting messages through his door, turning up at his work.”

  “Unusual for a man to complain of harassment,” Wilson said.

  “Apparently it went on for quite some time. He worked in a travel agency in Leicester, she’d visit and make a scene. He was concerned about his job.” She scratched at her temple. “He did say she made threats, but he withdrew his statement almost as soon as he’d placed it, said he felt sorry for her. She was visited by an officer on the 22nd of September 2005 at Western Avenue and given a harassment warning. Case closed.

  “The last complaint was in 2010,” Parsons said. “A Samantha Meadows. Wealthy middle-aged woman. Met Faye in a dentist surgery waiting room after she’d split from her husband. The two women got talking, arranged to meet and became friends. Over almost a year she took Faye on various holidays to Portugal, Italy, Turkey and allegedly became concerned when Faye started helping herself to her wardrobe, dressing like her, contacting her friends directly. When she found Faye looking through her personal effects at home, she ended the friendship. She complained to the police when Faye persistently phoned and turned up on her doorstep and Faye was given another harassment warning. The complainant lives in Australia with her daughter now.”