‘No! No! No!’ she cried repeatedly. She drew her body in and almost crouched as if in physical pain. Ray just stood there, hands in his pockets, staring blankly at the corpse: disengaged, almost as if the body before him was not his daughter. Mildred carried on sobbing. Drake stood at the opposite side of the table.
‘Pam fi? Pam fi?’ Mildred cried helplessly in Welsh, which Drake knew meant why me? Then she turned to Ray. ‘Pam es i allan nos Sul? Lle fi oedd bod adre.’
The technician replaced the white sheet and Drake turned to Ray and Mildred.
‘Sergeant Waits will take you home. We can make arrangements for someone to collect your car again.’
Ray spoke first, momentarily looking at Drake in the eyes before averting his gaze to the ceiling. ‘We’ll be all right. We don’t need anyone.’
Mildred continued to sob, ignoring the offer of water from Caren.
‘But I am sure it will be of great help. All the family liaison officers are specially trained. It can be a very difficult time for the family.’
Drake tried to sound as insistent as he could but Ray turned to him, the resolve evident in his eyes. ‘Mildred and I will be all right. Huw will be home when we get back.’
Drake tried another tack.
‘Could I at least send someone to help you tomorrow? The officer will be very sensitive. I know you will find it helpful. There will be a lot for you both to deal with – the funeral, the inquest and the investigation.’
Ray gave Drake a smile of disdain. ‘No, thank you.’
They walked in silence to the main doors of the hospital. Mildred put her hand through Ray’s arm. Drake and Caren carried on walking with Mildred and Ray to their car and watched as they drove away in the old Rover.
The sun was setting a deep scarlet over Anglesey as Drake and Caren stood in the car park.
‘What did Mildred say inside the mortuary?’ Caren said.
‘She said that she shouldn’t have been out the Sunday night Jane was killed and that her place was at home.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
The mobile rang, but Drake didn’t recognise the number.
‘Inspector Drake, it’s Calvin Headley. We’re running a piece on the murder this morning. Do you have any comments about the case? Do you have any suspects? Is there really a serial killer on Anglesey?’
Drake’s chest tightened.
‘I take it you’re the senior investigating officer. Can I refer to you by that title? Is there going to be a press conference?’
Drake terminated the call and drove home in a rage.
Chapter 11
Tyddyn Du looked bleaker than it had done the day before. The roof was darker, the dried-up mud in the entrance of the barn harder and the water on the yard dirtier. The farmhouse seemed ugly and out of place amongst the natural beauty of the countryside.
Drake parked alongside a black Ford. Caren got out before him and looked around.
‘It must have been an awful place to have been brought up as a child. It gives me the shivers,’ she said.
Drake said nothing. He closed the car door and looked over at the farmhouse.
Drake noticed the back door opening. He squinted towards the woman standing on the threshold. ‘This must be Ellen.’
As they approached Drake recognised Jane’s sister as an inelegant combination of her mother with her untidy, greying hair and the strong facial features of her father. He stretched out a hand. ‘Detective Inspector Drake and this is Detective Sergeant Waits.’
‘I’m Ellen, Jane’s sister.’
Inside in the parlour Mildred and Ray Jones sat together on the grey sofa. The bags under Mildred’s eyes were a fierce grey, her eyelids heavy. Drake pulled two chairs from underneath a table and pushed one over at Caren. Behind him Ellen followed suit, the chair leg scratching along the quarry-tiled floor. They sat down and looked over at Mildred and Ray.
‘We need to know more about Jane,’ Drake said.
‘My mother is very upset,’ Ellen said. ‘And she hasn’t slept very much.’
Drake nodded. ‘Can you think of anyone who would want to kill her?’ Mildred reached for her handkerchief as her eyes filled with tears.
Drake continued. ‘Did she have any boyfriends?’
Mildred sobbed a little, though seemed to be trying to stop herself.
Ellen answered. ‘Jane had lots of boyfriends. She was very attractive.’
‘Did she have a current boyfriend?’
A tremor passed over Ray Jones’s jaw as he clenched it tight. Mildred dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes. She shrugged.
Drake could sense the reluctance to discuss Jane with a stranger, a reticence he found incomprehensible; his irritation intensified. Their daughter was dead and they wanted to keep up appearances.
‘She’d been seeing Gwynfor for the past year,’ Mildred said.
Ray Jones stiffened. ‘We didn’t approve of him.’
They slipped into another silence.
Drake badly wanted to raise his voice. They were mired into a taciturn truculence that he’d seen so often in the older generation. His father always said that the people of Anglesey were an odd lot and that living on an island made them insular and remote.
He reached forward and looked at them each in turn. ‘My job is to find Jane’s killer. I need your help.’
Mildred had stopped crying.
‘I shall need Gwynfor’s contact details.’
Ray had an utterly inscrutable look on his face.
‘Gwynfor Llywelyn—’
‘Gwynfor Llywelyn? Drake couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice. ‘And was he her current boyfriend?’
She looked at him uncertain at his response. ‘I don’t think so. But she could be secretive and…’
‘Where did Jane go to school?’ Caren asked.
Mildred replied, slowly at first, as Caren made notes. They heard about Jane, from her primary to secondary school and then her adolescence years and the arguments and tantrums. Mildred visibly relaxed as she talked.
‘What did Jane do after leaving school?’ Drake asked.
‘I wanted her to stay on and get some qualifications,’ Mildred answered.
‘What did she do?’ asked Drake.
‘She began to train as a hairdresser. She did some day release in the local college. But all she wanted was to earn money and see her friends. She loved going out.’
Caren butted in. ‘Can you tell me the names of her friends? We’ll need to contact them. They may be able to help.’
‘She went out with a group of girls on Sunday night,’ Ellen said.
Mildred nodded and then gave Caren various names and addresses. Drake turned to Ray Jones who had sat impassively.
‘Did you meet any of her friends, Mr Jones?’
Ray turned his head towards Drake but averted his eyes before answering. ‘She never brought her friends home.’
Drake stared at Ray Jones, anticipating some eye contact that never came.
‘How long had she worked at this salon?’ Caren asked.
‘About a year,’ Mildred replied.
‘And before then?’
‘A couple of other local salons.’ Mildred sounded flustered.
Ellen answered for her mother. ‘Jane never seemed to settle in one place. She complained that the other girls would get jealous and then arguments would begin.’
‘Do you have the names of the other salons?’
‘I can find them for you,’ Ellen said.
By the end Caren had several sheets of paper with names, addresses and dates. Drake had witnessed a mother’s grief and the reserve of a man who hated invasion of his privacy. Intruding into the immediacy of the family’s grief was an inevitable part of his work but this family was more dysfunctional than most.
‘Where were you last night Mr Jones?’
‘Here.’
‘And you Mrs Jones?’
Mildred’s eyes opened wide and she blinked. ‘I
was out at a women’s group meeting in the local chapel.’
Outside there was a roar of a Land Rover.
‘That’ll be Huw,’ Ellen said.
‘I’ll go and see him.’ Drake turned to Ellen. ‘Perhaps Caren can look at Jane’s room.’
Mildred and Ray frowned in unison. Neither said anything; they both looked blankly at him.
‘Of course,’ Ellen said, leading Caren towards the door to the hall.
Outside Drake noticed the warmth of the sun after the coolness of the parlour and squinted to acclimatise to the sun’s rays.
*
Jane’s room was north facing and cold but, more than that, it felt bereft of life, of human warmth. And then it struck Caren how utterly humourless the house really was.
‘My parents are very old-fashioned,’ Ellen said, walking over to the window.
Caren was thinking about Drake and how he might have been a little more tactful. But he hadn’t lost his patience and at least he’d been sensitive when asking for their help.
‘Did Jane have any hobbies?’ Caren scanned the room. It was absent of any sign that a young woman lived there.
‘Going out – sometimes she’d go the local stables.’
‘Did your parents approve?’
Ellen shook her head slowly.
‘Were you close?’ Caren opened the drawers of an enormous chest with two hands, hoping for evidence of perfumes or make-up or deodorants or jewellery.
‘Not really. There was a big age gap. Enough to make us a different generation.’
‘Did she rebel?’ Caren looked into one of the drawers full of neatly stored clothes.
‘My father isn’t the easiest of people…’
Caren didn’t respond. She looked over at the bed. It had an ancient bedspread; even Caren’s grandparents had a duvet. Caren noticed a large trunk with metal straps on top of an oak wardrobe with large doors.
‘What’s in the trunk?’ Caren said.
‘It came from my grandparents’ home.’
Ellen stood, arms folded, as Caren opened the wardrobe and riffled through Jane’s belongings. There was a small box on the bottom shelf and Caren reached down and opened it. Another box sat inside, which she opened to find yet another box. Inside it was a diary, some loose change and a key.
Caren stood up and held the key with two fingers. ‘Any idea?’
Ellen shook her head.
Caren looked up at the trunk. ‘Give me a hand.’
Together they manoeuvred the trunk to the edge of the wardrobe and then pushed it from below; judging it to be empty, Caren lifted it onto the bed. The key opened the lock easily enough.
They looked down into the hidden world of a young woman. Bottles of perfume, shower creams, face wipes and lipstick. As Caren moved an empty condom packet to one side she noticed Ellen catch her breath. Caren took out two small diaries and then her fingers touched an old mobile telephone. She placed them onto the bedspread.
‘I’ll need to take these.’
Ellen stood, her arms folded even more tightly.
*
Huw appeared unsurprised when Drake walked up behind him. He was hauling various sacks from the rear of the Land Rover.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Drake.’
Huw didn’t stop what he was doing. He had a narrow chin that jutted out prominently and eyes that had a hard piercing focus. A few days’ stubble made his face look heavy and swarthy. He had broad and powerful hands like his father that he wrapped round a bag of feedstuff lying on the back of the Land Rover. There was no physical similarity to suggest Jane was his sister.
‘I need to talk to you about Jane,’ Drake said. ‘When did you last see her?’
‘Night she was killed.’
‘Where?’
Huw walked off towards the inside of the barn.
‘Here.’
Huw dropped the bag on the floor. He stopped to open an old wardrobe full of blue and green one-piece overalls.
‘Did you know any of her friends?’
‘No, definitely not.’ His reply was sharp. He was searching for a suitable pair of gloves from a drawer full of assorted sizes.
‘Did you know Gwynfor Llywelyn – Jane’s boyfriend?’
Huw stared at him. ‘She’d finished with him.’
‘So who was her boyfriend?
Huw shrugged.
Drake paused, noticing the dark colour of Huw’s eyes. ‘Were you close as brother and sister?’
‘What do you mean, close?’
‘Well, did you share confidences? Did you know about her life and she about yours?’
Huw looked perplexed, as though he didn’t understand the question.
‘She was a lot younger than me.’ Huw walked out to the Land Rover.
Drake followed him, but after more monosyllabic answers Drake decided he wasn’t achieving anything.
‘Do you know Somerset de Northway? Apparently he owns the cottages.’
‘Of course I do. Everyone knows him.’
Huw reached for a sack of feed that he manhandled onto his shoulder. ‘He owns this place,’ he said, tipping his head towards the farmhouse. ‘And he’s doing everything he can to get us out.’
Drake thought about his grandfather telling him about the struggle he’d had to buy his smallholding from the local aristocracy. ‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s served a notice to quit on the basis of poor husbandry.’
‘What’s happening with that?’
‘We’ll fight it.’
‘How much land do you have?’
‘We have 120 acres of tenanted land and another thirty we own.’
Huw made for the back of the barn.
Drake walked up to the back door and stood outside ready to knock when the door opened and Ellen stood there with Caren.
‘Ellen showed me Jane’s room,’ Caren said.
‘I haven’t been in it for years,’ added Ellen quietly. ‘There was something a bit unsettling about it.’
Drake thanked her again and they walked down to the car.
‘What was her room like?’ Drake said.
‘Barren.’
‘Did you go through all her things?’
‘Everything was hidden away in a trunk.’
‘All her personal stuff?’
‘Her make-up and the usual things for a girl of her age.’
Drake found his keys and bleeped the Alfa. It was hot and the smell of warming leather filled the car. Grains of sand glistened in the footwell despite Drake’s vacuuming the night before.
Driving away, Drake opened the window and let the summer heat brush his face. He caught a glimpse of Ellen in the rear view mirror standing, quite still, by the door.
Chapter 12
Caren left Tyddyn Du hoping that she’d never have to return. The place and the Jones family had depressed her and she kept thinking that if ever she had children her home would be full of happiness and fun and laughter. Her mood lightened the further they drove away from the farmhouse.
She reached for the diaries and flicked through the pages. They were for the last two years and scanning the entries made her remember her own teenage years. But she had been younger than Jane when her short-lived attempts at keeping a diary had petered out. Then she fingered the old Nokia – it was a handset she hadn’t seen for years.
‘I thought the CSIs found a mobile on the body,’ Drake said.
‘This is an old version.’
‘Get Dave to have it checked by forensics.’
Caren turned the mobile through her fingers, wondering if there were numbers of interest or the record of messages still on the old telephone.
They found the first house on the list without difficulty. A pitched-roof porch as well as new uPVC windows, adorned with extravagant swirls, had been added to the ex-council house. Drake parked and Caren cleared her throat, wanting to suggest that she conduct the interview without actually sounding as though she didn’t want Drake to do so.
She’d suggested this on other occasions when she thought his approach would be too brusque.
‘Let me talk to this girl, sir. She might respond better to a feminine approach.’ Caren was already out of the car before Drake could mumble an acknowledgement.
Caren pressed the bell and chimes echoed through the house. She heard a shout and the door opened. A woman with a perfect beehive of jet-black hair, a flamboyant pink blouse and a narrow pencil skirt opened the door. Her make-up cracked slightly around her eyes as she squinted at Caren’s warrant card.
‘I need to speak to Tracy,’ Caren said.
The woman stared at Caren and then Drake before shouting over her shoulder. ‘Tracy, the cops are here.’
There was the sound of movement upstairs and then footsteps on the staircase. Tracy had a round face and there was a reddish tone to her chestnut brown hair that she’d drawn back into a ponytail, and Caren immediately thought she must have been adopted. She wore a pair of faded jeans and a thin T-shirt. She needed no make-up. Caren and Drake followed the young girl into the front room.
Every surface was covered with miniature vases and fairings. There were runners on the carpet alongside the sofas and chairs. Sitting down in such order was daunting. Tracy’s eyes were swollen and Caren guessed they’d been a lot worse.
‘We’re investigating Jane’s death,’ Caren said.
‘I was the last to see her.’ Tracy sat on the edge of the sofa, staring at Caren and then Drake.
‘Where?’
‘At that club in Rhosneigr.’
‘Were you with anyone else?’
‘There was a crowd of us. In the summer we always go there. There are boys from the sailing club and there are discos and a barbecue.’
Caren consulted her notes. She reeled off the names of the other girls that Mildred had given her and Tracy nodded confirmation of those that had been there.
‘The place was packed.’ Tracy began chewing a fingernail on her right hand. She flicked back a stray lock of hair. Caren could see how young she looked.
‘Did Jane have a regular boyfriend?’
‘She’d just finished with Gwynfor Llywelyn,’ Tracy continued. ‘He runs that bakery. I was in school with his sister.’
‘What happened?’
Tracy shrugged. ‘He was just too intense. And he smelt.’
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