“What time was this?”
“I don’t know. Possibly around midnight. We were about to go to the Jewel of India for some food.”
“It’s open all hours, that place,” Chris says.
I frown at him. The middle of a murder investigation is not the time to discuss the opening hours of Indian restaurants. He’s alright is Chris, I like him, but he’s got a lot to learn as a constable.
“Thinking she was still in the loos. I went to check on her,” Tricia leans forwards in her chair, briefly hugging her knees as though trying to comfort herself. “I was shouting mum, mum and banging on the doors. I thought she must have fallen asleep. I wasted time waiting for people to come out of each loo. If I’d gone out sooner, I might have been able to stop whatever happened from happening.”
“How long were you in the toilets for?”
“Easily five minutes. Maybe even ten.”
I look at the smiling photos all around the room. This is what family boils down to. Eventually, this is all that is left. Photographs and memories. It’s agony, this grief business. I would rather have my leg sawn off with a blunt blade. “Then what.”
“I went back down into the pub, thinking she must have somehow slipped passed me, but my friend, Hazel, hadn’t seen her either. I ran around the pub for a bit, asking people. The man behind the bar thought he’d seen a woman, possibly Mum, leave with a man but, that must have been someone else. Mum wouldn’t have left the pub with a man. As soon as he said that though, I ran outside.”
I make a note of the woman leaving with a man bit. “Did your friend go outside with you?”
“After a couple of minutes. We tried ringing Mum, but really, I knew there was no way she’d have just gone. Hazel and I were due to sleep here, at her house that night, and even if we weren’t, she’d have let us know what she was doing.”
“We received the three nines call from you at 12:34 am. Can you recall seeing anything untoward outside the Yorkshire Arms whilst you were waiting for us to get there?”
“Nothing.” Tricia runs her hands up and down her arms. “I can’t believe that just yards away, my mother was underwater.”
“Has anything else come to mind since?” Hutton has a sip of water from the bottle he has brought in with him. It’s a very warm house. “Did anyone unexpected attend her funeral?”
“No. I knew everyone there. And Mum didn’t have an enemy in the world. I can’t imagine anyone who would have wanted to target her.”
“We don’t think your mum was chosen by someone who knew her personally. We think we’re looking for someone who’s targeting women who look a particular way, and on their own after drinking.”
“Mum was in her fifties.” Tricia glances at a photograph of her. “How can she be compared with some of the others? In terms of looking a particular way. One was in her early twenties.”
Hutton follows her gaze to the photograph. “It’s the dark hair worn long, and the green eyes. She had green eyes, didn’t she?”
“Yes. Like me.” Tricia’s eyes fill with more tears. “I can’t seem to get myself together. I haven’t since she died. I wish I could remember something to help you. But she was a normal, lovely mum, grieving for her husband. She didn’t deserve to die. Please catch him.”
Chapter Thirty Five
Jennifer’s Family
It sounds like some kids are having a fight as we walk up the path. “Get off me!” Then there’s a thud against the window.
“I’m telling!”
A male voice shouts from inside the house. We look at each other as we ring the doorbell. A woman answers. I haven’t met her before, but she resembles the photographs I’ve seen of Jennifer.
“Sergeant Robert Hutton, Sergeant Mark Potts and PC Chris Canvey.” Hutton gestures to each of us. By now, a man has emerged behind her in the doorway.
“Alan Fairburn.” He extends a hand past her. “It was me you spoke to on the phone. Jenny’s husband.”
“I’m Natalie Farley,” says the woman, holding out her hand too. “Jenny’s sister. Stop it you two!” She turns towards the stairs. “I’m just going to read them the riot act. Then we might be able to hear each other speak.”
“Can I get you a drink?” Alan asks as we follow him into the kitchen. “I was just making one for us.” He gestures towards the large kitchen table for us to sit.
“If it’s no trouble,” I reply before Hutton can refuse. I know he likes to keep these visits brief, but I’m sleeping so erratically that I need all the caffeine on offer to keep me going.
“As you know, Jenny and I had parted company before she died.” Alan fills a teapot and a cafetière with boiling water. “But I’m living back here now to look after my kids.” He brings the pots to the table and gives us all a cup.
I nod and fill a cup from the cafetière. “Thanks. Much appreciated.”
Natalie returns and pulls a chair up at the end of the kitchen table. The late afternoon sunshine and the crocuses coming up in the garden are completely at odds with the discussion we are about to have and the darkness I am feeling. “So,” she says. “You’re definitely looking for someone who killed my sister? She didn’t just fall into the river?”
“I’m afraid it would appear so.” Hutton fills his mug with tea. “And in light of that, we are here to see if you can remember anything since we last saw you, that might help us with the investigation.”
“They should bring back hanging.” Alan adds milk to his cup. “Men like him shouldn’t be allowed to breathe fresh air. He robbed my kids of their mother.”
“It might not be a man,” Natalie looks across the table at him, squinting in the sunshine.
“We’re fairly certain it is.” Hutton’s gaze flicks towards Alan, who is twisting the blind to alleviate the sun in Natalie’s eyes.
“Well, there’s nothing much I can tell you,” Alan says. “I didn’t know anything had happened until the next day, when Natalie rang me.”
“Did you have any contact with her the day she died?” I ask with my pen poised over my notebook. Hutton seems reasonably OK now with me occasionally speaking at these meetings. I think he knows I’m not going to break down or take over the conversations by mentioning Lauren. My grief can wait until we have the maniac behind bars.
“No. I’d moved out a few months before,” Alan replies. “I’d been living with someone else. Before I came back here to look after the kids, I mean.”
“Has your new partner come with you? Here, I mean?” Chris speaks now.
“No. The kids get on her nerves. Well, you can hear them, can’t you? Little sods.” At that he jumps up and heads for the door of the kitchen. “Keep it down,” he calls up the stairs. “Auntie Nat and I are trying to talk to the police about your mum.” After that there is deathly silence.
“Did Jenny and your new partner have many dealings with one another?”
“Nah.” He laughs a little. “Are you suggesting that Kirsty might have had something to do with it? No. She wasn’t keen on Jenny but wouldn’t have wanted her dead!”
“I’ve remembered something that I haven’t mentioned before.” Natalie chews her lip. “It’s come up in my head a couple of times since my sister’s funeral.”
“Go on,” Hutton says, looking at me.
“It’s probably nothing.” She frowns as she takes a sip from her cup. “But when Jennifer left the Yorkshire Arms that night, a man left at the same time. She held the door open for him if I’m remembering correctly. I didn’t treat it with any importance at the time because she turned left from the exit towards the road and he turned right towards the riverbank path.”
“Can you remember what he looked like?”
“To be honest, I only saw him from the back. He was casual. But like I say, he went in the opposite direction.”
Chris wraps his hands around his cup. “Did you continue watching after that?”
“Erm, no. I don’t think so. After all, Jen was getting a taxi to get home to
them two upstairs. They were throwing up, and the babysitter had rung. Jen hadn’t wanted me to go with her, so I just carried on with my evening. And it was chucking it down so I didn’t go out and wait with her. She was supposed to text me when she got into the taxi.”
There’s a thundering of footsteps down the stairs and a door bangs. “Obviously she didn’t. ” Alan glances out of the window as one of his kids, and one that must be Jennifer’s, walks towards the garden shed. I think of Alysha and wonder what she’ll look like in a few years’ time. She might be like this girl I’m watching now, growing up without her mum. I take a deep breath to avert the sorrow that threatens to engulf me and turn back to Natalie. She’s very matter-of-fact and cool for someone whose sister has died in this way.
“To be honest, it slipped my mind to get in touch with her. It’s only when I got a message from her babysitter through Facebook an hour later that I realised something was up. And then I called you.”
“You’ve been really helpful,” Hutton says, draining his cup. “The brief description you’ve given of the man ties in with the investigation.”
“We’ll keep you posted.” I stand. I’ve had enough for one day and decide to go for a walk before going home. I need to be alone with my thoughts. “Thanks for your time.”
Chapter Thirty Six
I poke my head into the lounge where Brenda and Claire are staring at the TV.
“Drink anyone?” I say. “I’m having a brandy.”
They both nod. None of us ever really drink like this, but over the last few days, it has been deemed acceptable. I will be an alcoholic if I’m not careful. It’s the only thing, apart from sleep, that can numb the pain. Sometimes the grief is overwhelming and nearly knocks me over. It ebbs and flows, but it’s more manageable when I’m occupied, like at work, or when I have a brandy in my hand. I stride into the kitchen and pull out three glass tumblers from the cupboard.
“Daddy,” Alysha calls into the hallway. “I’m back.”
I step into the hallway and spot my sister-in-law behind her. Alysha thrusts a picture into my hand. “It’s Mummy,” she says, pointing at the smiling stick figure with blue legs, a big red smile and two long brown plaits, one sticking out from either side of her head.
“Grandma and Auntie Claire are in the lounge.” Tears fill my eyes as I point at the door. “Why don’t you go and say hello?”
As she pushes the door open, I turn to Eva. “Thanks Eva. You’ve been incredible this week.”
“Don’t be daft. I’ve just helped out with my niece – it’s what anyone would do. How are you doing?”
She follows me into the kitchen. I take the brandy down from the top of the fridge and fill the three tumblers.
She refuses when I offer her one. “I’m driving.”
“It might settle me down,” I reply. “I feel sick all the time. I keep expecting her to walk through the door. It’s shit Eva, it’s just shit.” I don’t swear often. I made a point not to after Alysha was born.
“Will and I are thinking of you all the time. Come here.” I step towards her and put my head against her shoulder. She wraps her arms around me and we stay there for a moment. It’s unheard of, me and my sister-in-law hugging, but these are exceptional circumstances. I think the last time we hugged was when Lauren and I got engaged. But I need all the hugs on offer right now. However, I don’t quite believe that Will is thinking of me.
“I’m going to get back so Will can get off,” she says. “I still feel shaky after the reconstruction. Will tried to stop me from doing it, but I wouldn’t have it. I wanted to help.”
“Did he?”
“Yeah. He reckoned he knew it would have this sort of effect on me.”
“I really appreciate what you’ve done, you know.”
“I know. I did it for Lauren and I don’t care what Will thinks.”
“Why do you have to get back? Where’s he going?”
“He’s taken an extra shift. He reckons we need to get away more than ever now and is on about inviting Alysha as well - he thinks it might give her something to look forward to.”
“I’m hungry.” Alysha appears in the kitchen doorway before I can reply.
“I’ll give you a call later.” I reach for the biscuit tin on top of the fridge. “When I’ve got this one settled and watched the reconstruction.”
“You shouldn’t be hungry.” Eva ruffles Alysha’s hair. “After the huge tea Uncle Will cooked for you and Heidi. I’ll just say hello to Claire and Brenda before I set off.”
I do my best to listen and engage with Alysha whilst she pushes her toys around in the bath, but like lots of parents, I’ve become well practised in saying ‘um’ and ‘yeah’ in the right places and looking like I’m listening when in fact, I’m stuck in my own foggy world, one that’s dark and closing in on me.
“I miss Mummy,” she says. “I want her to come home. Can we pick her up from heaven Daddy?”
“God, I wish we could, sweetie.” I reach for the towel on the radiator and wrap it around her whilst lifting her from the bath.
“I feel really sad Daddy. It’s like a funny feeling in my tummy that won’t go away.”
I rub at her hair with the towel. Hair that’s the same as Lauren’s. It makes me ache to look at Alysha. She’s the image of her mother. “I know. I’ve got the same feeling in my tummy too. I think we’ll both have it for a long time.”
“Why can’t she come home? Why is she dead? Why didn’t she take us with her?”
Questions I wish I could answer. Questions I want answering too. Poor Alysha. And I don’t know how I will look after her on my own.
My voice wobbles as I read her a story. This is why I’ve avoided her all week. I don’t know what to say. I can’t hold it together. Normally, when it’s been my turn to read to her at bedtime, I send Lauren up after I’ve finished to tuck her in. She’s silent when I give her a hug, and I see the pain in her eyes as I pull back. “I’ll send Grandma and Auntie Claire up to see you.” Then with a squeeze of her arm, I’m out of there before she sees the tears slide down my face. She would have been beside herself with excitement at the prospect of a new brother and sister. She’s not mentioned anything about her flower girl role yet either. It’s a nightmare.
I open our bedroom door and go straight over to Lauren’s wardrobe. I bury my face in the dress she wore the last time we were out for the evening. There’s a faint trace of the Valentino perfume I bought her for Christmas. Breathing in her scent brings forth sobs so violent, I worry Alysha will hear. Then I feel hands on each of my shoulders. Turning me around and into Lauren’s mother. “Come here you,” she says, and I feel the wetness of her cheeks too. “You let it all out. It’s about time.”
“I can’t cope without her. I can’t do this.” The voice that’s coming from me sounds alien. I don’t know how long we stand there, but eventually I pull back. I hear Claire’s voice in Alysha’s room and feel calmer. “I’m OK,” I say to Brenda. “Thanks for the hug. I needed it.”
“The reconstruction is on soon,” she replies. “Let’s watch it. Sometimes they get people calling in straight away.”
“I went to see the woman who survived, did I tell you?” I walk behind her on the stairs. “She was in a right state. We need to catch the bastard. Sorry for swearing Brenda. We’re revisiting all the other families, in the hope that they remember something now that it’s become a murder hunt.”
“Is that a good idea?” She turns to me as we reach the bottom. “You being involved, I mean?”
“Yes. I want to do everything I can to help catch him. The police investigation has been a mess. Don’t repeat that though – keep it between me and you.” I follow her into the lounge.
“Lauren had written about it, hadn’t she?” Brenda tilts the blinds. “I begged her to be careful. It’s possibly why she was killed, isn’t it?”
“The original Detective Chief Inspector has come off the case. I don’t know if he offered to or was asked to.
” I point the remote at the TV. “He’s been going through a split with his wife and his mind has not been on the job. There’s a DI on it now who is really thorough. DI Jones, he’s the one who collected you after… anyway, he’s being overseen by another DCI. We’ll get him, don’t worry.”
“I bloody hope so.” Brenda sinks to the sofa beside Claire. “And then they should leave me on my own with him. That would be the best punishment he could possibly receive. After what he did to my daughter.”
My stomach churns as the opening music begins. Claire used to be scared to death of this programme when we were kids. We would always watch it, and then she’d be really worried for days afterwards. I suppose it does have the effect of making people think the world is full of crime.
“We start tonight with a dreadful case involving a series of drownings in Alderton in Yorkshire,” the host begins. “Since September last year, a total of seven women have lost their lives in the River Alder and there have been two further attacks - one fatal, at a nearby stream that runs into the river.” He goes on to flash up their pictures, one by one, then stops when he gets to Lauren’s. I stare into the smiling face of the only woman I have ever properly loved. She looks so full of vitality and happiness. Claire and Brenda reach for each other’s hands and I sit forwards in my seat.
Denise, it is said, can’t yet be named for legal reasons, but Lauren is described. They talk about her being in the early stages of pregnancy and progressing well in her career.
My breath catches in my throat when the reenactment starts and the camera follows Eva up the familiar cycle path. It was similar weather this morning to what it was like on the day she died. It really could be Lauren on that bike as Eva’s brown hair billows out behind her. I can understand why Will didn’t want her to do it, but I’m proud of her for going ahead anyway.
The Yorkshire Dipper Page 20