I nod. ‘I’d say most of the village was there. The church was packed. It was really sad, as you’d expect, but there was nothing noticeably out of place.’
‘And after?’
‘Most of them went to the pub,’ I tell the DI.
‘Keep asking questions,’ he orders. ‘Someone in that village must know what happened to Hollie Hampton.’
*
People don’t always act as you think they might. There’s often someone who may not realise they’re sitting on a vital piece of information, just as there’s always someone in a village who sees what goes on, yet remains in the background.
When I reach Ida Jones’s cottage, I wonder if she could be that person, the keeper of the village’s secrets. Her lips are pursed as she lets me in, her unruly grey curls scraped back in a bun. She comes up to my shoulder but despite her height and age, looks strong. As she shows me into her sitting room, she gestures to the sofa.
‘Do you want to sit down?’
‘Thank you.’ The heavy dark furniture and dated three-piece suite remind me of my grandmother’s house. ‘I’m sorry to turn up unexpectedly like this, Mrs Jones. I was hoping to talk to you about Hollie Hampton.’
She nods. ‘I thought you might. But I’m not sure there’s much I can tell you.’
‘Well … you could start by telling me about her. How well you knew her. Where you saw her, what you knew about her, her relationships …’
‘She was quite a sweet young thing. But flighty, I’d say. She was friends with young Niamh, but I expect you know that. It’s hard on young ones to lose a friend.’ Her eyes mist over.
‘How well do you know the Hamptons?’
‘As well as I know everyone else in this village.’ She smiles. ‘You’ll know that James is a writer and Stephanie’s a hairdresser?’
When I nod, she goes on. ‘I might be wrong, but after his first book, I don’t think he’s had much luck. It’s her salon that keeps them going.’
‘Is that so?’ It would explain the shabbiness of their house if money was tight. ‘Do you know the Buckleys?’
‘Oh yes.’ Ida Jones nods. ‘I see Elise from time to time. The doctor though …’ She seems to stop herself.
My instincts are on full alert. ‘What about him?’
‘Between you and me, he’s not a nice man. I won’t say any more than that.’
‘Mrs Jones … If you know something about Doctor Buckley that could help us, we need to know.’
She’s shaking her head, her expression mutinous. ‘It won’t help you find who killed poor young Hollie.’ She hesitates. ‘But there are rumours. Villages are full of rumours.’ She pauses again. ‘He likes women. That’s all I’m saying.’
I’m not altogether surprised. If her husband’s fooling around, it might explain the slight hostility I sense in Elise Buckley.
Ida frowns. ‘I almost forgot. I saw Elise with Hollie not that long back. They were by the church. I think they were arguing about something. I’d just started talking to them when my phone rang – it was my daughter – and by the time we’d finished our chat, they’d sorted it out.’
My ears prick up. ‘Did you hear what it was about?’
‘They were too far away. And, of course, they stopped once they saw me. I did wonder why Hollie wasn’t in school.’
She continues. ‘I used to see Hollie and Niamh together all over the place. They didn’t take too much notice of boundaries, those two. But they were harmless.’
I think of what Niamh said about the two of them creeping into private gardens together. ‘Where did they used to go, Mrs Jones? Do you know?’
‘How would I know?’ She glares at me. ‘Ask young Niamh. She’s the only one who could tell you. Wherever Hollie went, Niamh was always right there with her.’
Without knowing how, I’ve struck a nerve. ‘How long have you lived in the village, Mrs Jones?’
‘It’s gone thirty years, twenty of them without my Derek. I’ve seen a few folks come and go, you know.’
‘Have you seen any strangers hanging around, or noticed anything unusual?’ I watch her face for any clues and she smiles.
‘Well, of course. It’s different these days. Folk drive past in their big cars … And the pub is full of outsiders. Even the church … folk only seem to go there on high days and holidays. We used to go every week. Shame.’ She shakes her head.
High days, holidays … and funerals, I can’t help thinking. ‘So life around here has changed?’
She seems to think for a moment. ‘You could say that.’ She speaks quietly. ‘It used to be that when something terrible happened, people would rally round. There was a real sense of community.’
‘And you don’t have that now?’ I feel myself frown.
She looks at me sadly. ‘It hasn’t been like that in a long time.’
*
After what Ida Jones has hinted at about the Hamptons’ financial situation, I pay a visit to Stephanie Hampton’s salon, hoping to talk to her away from her husband. But when I get there, the door is locked and it’s in darkness. Checking the clock in my car, I realise I’ve timed my visit badly, guessing she’s closed for lunch.
Her salon is one of a few businesses arranged in a courtyard of converted farm buildings. From what I can see of the dim interior, it looks as though Stephanie has closed in a hurry. A couple of towels are hung over chairs, and the whole place looks untidy, but it stands to reason that her mind would be on other things after Hollie’s death.
Or would it? If Ida Jones is right, this salon is the only thing keeping the Hamptons afloat. Going back down the steps, I walk along to the next building, glancing at the window display filled with wedding paraphernalia. Above the door, gold letters spell out the shop’s name: Tiger Lily.
I open the door and go inside, taking in the rails of wedding dresses as I’m greeted by a young woman wearing a tape measure slung around her neck. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I was hoping to catch Stephanie next door.’
Clearly hoping for business, the woman’s face falls.
‘DS May – Chichester Police. I’m investigating the death of Mrs Hampton’s stepdaughter. I don’t suppose you know where she is?’
She shakes her head. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t. Her hours have been a bit erratic lately. Hardly surprising given what’s happened … Can I help in any way?’
I pause for a moment. ‘How well do you know Mrs Hampton?’
‘Only on a business level. I used to refer brides to her, to get their hair done.’ A shadow crosses the woman’s face. ‘I don’t like saying this, but I think I’m going to be a bit careful now. One of her suppliers came in chasing her for an unpaid bill the other day. I don’t want to refer my brides to her if her business is shaky.’
It sounds as though Stephanie’s in a downward spiral – when a business isn’t doing well, word gets around and customers stay away, making it worse – and of course the situation won’t have been helped by Hollie’s death.
*
Back at the office, I go over everything we know for the umpteenth time, then check in with Sarah Collins to see if they’ve got any further with Operation Rainbow.
‘We have the lead we’ve been waiting for – I hope.’ Sarah sounds relieved. ‘There was a call earlier today from a woman. Apparently her partner had been boasting about a business opportunity that was going to make him a lot of money. He then showed her the adult website he was planning on investing in – he justified it by saying it was the kind of thing that was everywhere. She was horrified, but while he was in the shower, she had another look. This time, she found images of children. She was quite smart, actually. Instead of confronting him, she pretended to go along with the idea and quizzed him about the investment. He told her he’d met someone in a pub in Abingworth – a man who lived around there, apparently, though he didn’t say where exactly, and of course, it could have been a front. But it seems to fit too well to be a coincidence.’
‘
We need to speak to him.’
‘There’s a problem with that.’ Sarah pauses. ‘He runs a delivery service and he’s away on a job for a couple of days. His partner doesn’t know exactly where he is.’
‘Get the vehicle registration of the van. Or trace him by his phone.’
‘We’re already doing it. As soon as we locate him, we’ll bring him in.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Elise
Assuming Stephanie will have kept her word and spoken to the police after the funeral, I leave it a couple of days before I go to see her. It’s early afternoon when I get to her salon and she looks on edge when I walk in.
‘Have you told James?’ I ask her.
‘That I’m leaving? I suppose it’s obvious.’ Her voice tight, she glances around the shop. ‘It’s complicated, Elise. I haven’t told him in as many words.’
‘I wanted to ask you something.’ I hesitate. ‘Do you know if James and Andrew have fallen out?’
At the mention of Andrew’s name, she looks startled. ‘I wasn’t aware that they were ever friends.’ An odd look crosses her face. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I’ve never thought of them as friends. But they’ve always seemed to get on reasonably well socially.’ I feel myself frown. ‘It was just that, at Hollie’s funeral, I caught James looking at Andrew and … let’s just say it wasn’t friendly. In fact, I’d describe it as hatred.’
‘That’s a bit strong.’ Stephanie seems to stiffen. ‘I’ve certainly no idea why.’ She’s silent; then she adds, ‘I don’t know what you want me to say.’
‘Nothing. I thought I’d ask you, that’s all.’ Slightly puzzled by her response, I change the subject. ‘What did the police say when you spoke to them?’
Folding her arms, she looks awkward. ‘I haven’t.’
I’m shocked. ‘Stephanie, you have to. It’s bad enough that they don’t already know. You need to call them.’
She at least has the grace to look ashamed. ‘I know.’ Her voice hardens. ‘Surely you can understand it’s the last thing I feel like doing. After Hollie …’ Her voice wavers. ‘I can’t face having to answer more questions from the police. And I’ll have to tell them where I’m going.’
‘You don’t have to tell them you’re going anywhere. But they do need to know what James is involved in. If I were you, I’d have everything packed and ready to go, so that once I’d talked to them, I could drive away and never come back. Call them. Tell them what you need to about his “investment”, then just get away from here.’
‘You think?’
I shrug. It depends what her conscience will let her live with. ‘It’s his problem, Stephanie, not yours. You have to do the right thing, but after that …’
A look of anguish crosses her face. ‘I’ve done what I can for James, but he’s a fool. I would never have imagined he’d be so stupid. What kind of a man risks everything the way he has?’ Her voice is shaking, but her eyes are blazing as she looks at me. ‘I keep asking myself – why? Why me? Why us? So much has gone wrong all at once. And if I talk to the police …’
In spite of everything, I feel sympathy for her. My circumstances are different, but I’ve thought the same lately – about Andrew’s infidelity, his abusive ways, Niamh’s silence … It’s so much – sometimes too much.
But then she says pointedly, ‘There’s no use my trying to explain to you. You have no idea, Elise, how it feels to … to have nothing. How could you?’
Taken aback, I stare at her. ‘None of us knows what each other’s lives are like. You’ve said it yourself, before. How can we?’ I’m challenging her, wanting her to see how wrong she’s got it. That appearances are meaningless and her assumptions about me are way off, because she has no idea what my life is really like. No-one does.
But she doesn’t get it. ‘Yes, but look at you in that big house, married to the local doctor … You don’t need to work but you do it anyway. For fun, I suppose – getting to wear that uniform, giving you more money to spend and the perfect excuse not to be here.’ Her words are loaded with bitterness.
‘What are you insinuating?’ Quietly seething, I stare at her. ‘What makes you so sure you know what my life is like?’
‘Do you know how many people would give anything to be in your shoes?’ This time, her voice is filled with resentment.
I stare at her, shock hitting me as she makes no attempt to hide her jealousy. It isn’t other people she’s talking about. It’s herself. Stephanie’s jealous of my life. Then her mood suddenly changes. ‘Oh God.’ She looks mortified. ‘I’m so sorry. I should never have said that.’
‘No, you shouldn’t have,’ I snap, already turning away and marching out before she can say anything, I close the door hard behind me before almost walking into Ida Jones.
‘Elise, my dear. How are you? How’s young Niamh?’ In a woollen coat with a colourful knitted scarf, Ida looks puzzled as she takes in my mood.
Hastily I try to compose myself, but Stephanie’s words are still ringing in my ears. ‘We’re fine.’ I try to soften my voice. ‘We’re both fine, thank you … I just called in to see Stephanie. It’s a difficult time for her.’
Ida’s eyes linger on me. ‘You look a little upset. Are you sure you’re all right? It can’t have been easy for you, either, what with—’
But I interrupt. ‘I’m fine. Really. Thank you.’ I glance up at the shop window. ‘I’m sure Stephanie will be pleased to see you.’
‘Yes.’ It’s as though Ida’s speaking to herself. ‘Come for coffee, Elise dear. So much has happened. I haven’t seen you in such a long time.’
I’ve a sudden need to get away from here, to be alone. I nod. ‘I’ll call you – when my next flight schedule comes out.’
*
I’m still angry with Stephanie as I drive away. I know her life is collapsing around her, but she has no right to make assumptions about other people. By the time I reach home, my anger hasn’t dissipated. In the house, I throw my bag on the table. Then thinking what Stephanie said – if I talk to the police – I realise there’s every chance she isn’t going to. Without hesitating, I grab my phone and call the number DS May gave me.
She answers straight away. ‘DS May.’
‘Hello. It’s Elise Buckley.’ I’m floundering, suddenly less sure of what I want to say, terrified I’m opening a Pandora’s box. But I can’t go back. ‘There’s something I think you need to know.’
*
In the thirty minutes before DS May’s car pulls up in the drive, I swing between fobbing her off and telling her the truth about James, but in the end, duty wins over. James is involved in a business that puts children at risk. I should have gone to the police the moment I found out. But there’s Stephanie, too. I saw a different side to her earlier – unstable, poisonous. Whatever she said about calling the police, I don’t trust her.
‘Come in.’ I hold the door open for DS May, who looks like someone’s mum rather than a policewoman in her printed cord skirt and suede boots. She follows me into the kitchen.
‘What was it you wanted to tell me?’
‘Would you like to sit down?’ As she goes over to the table and pulls out one of the chairs, I take a deep breath. ‘James Hampton is caught up in something he’s been hiding from you. Stephanie, his wife, told me about it.’ I sit down opposite her.
Switching on her notebook, DS May frowns at me. ‘What exactly has he done?’
‘Someone offered him the chance to invest in a porn business. Apparently they told him they’re developing an app, which is why they were looking for investors.’ I hesitate. ‘She said he knew what he was investing in was porn – there’s a website. But what he didn’t know until later was that there are images of children, too.’
She leans forward, her gaze suddenly sharp. ‘Do you know the name of it?’
‘She didn’t say. She was very upset.’
‘What else has she told you?’
‘Just that they were having money p
roblems and James was told it would make him a lot of money. She didn’t know who he’s involved with.’ I look at DS May, wondering how much of this she already knows. ‘What he hadn’t realised was that once he’d looked at the site on his laptop, it was there in his search history – and whoever runs this, has a list. When he wanted to withdraw his investment, they started blackmailing him. If he didn’t pay, they’d tell the police. Now, they’re on the brink of losing everything.’
All the time I’ve been speaking, DS May has been making notes. ‘How long has she known?’
I try to remember if Stephanie told me. ‘I’m not sure, but not long. She was horrified when she found out,’ I emphasise, not wanting DS May to imagine Stephanie was complicit.
DS May leans back, looking oddly satisfied, rather than shocked, as I go on.
‘There’s something else. This I’m less sure about.’ I hesitate. ‘I think I told you before that I regularly go running. One morning, almost two weeks after Hollie was found, I took a different route, which comes out in the woods up the lane.’
‘On the way in from the main road?’ When I nod, DS May writes it down.
‘As I came out of the trees, I saw James’s car. I was about to go and speak to him, when another car turned up. It parked next to him and he went over and had an angry conversation with the driver. It ended with James shouting and thumping his fist on the roof of the car before it drove away.’
‘Did you hear what was said?’
I shake my head. ‘I was too far away. But they were definitely arguing.’
‘You didn’t see who the other driver was? Or recognise the car?’
I shake my head. ‘All I noticed was that it was black and expensive-looking, like a lot of cars around here.’ I pause. ‘There’s one final thing. I don’t know if you’ve met Phil Mason? At Hollie’s funeral, I saw James giving him a venomous look I couldn’t explain and I also noticed he went out of his way to avoid him. It made me wonder if Phil Mason could have been the person James was yelling at in the car. Then later …’ I pause again, remembering what Andrew had said. ‘I asked my husband if he knew Phil Mason, or if he knew whether Phil and James were friends. He told me he did know him and then he said, “He’s not the kind of person you go around asking questions about”.’
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