Kishor laughed and shoved him to the ground. The snow blotted his shirt.
‘Come on.’ Kishor took Meera’s hand and started to lead her back inside.
‘Ask him about Sh-Shanae, Sh-Shanae Roberts. Ask him what he did,’ he shouted after them.
Meera looked back briefly, but Kishor pulled her into the house.
Jitesh lay in the snow and breathed deep. The cold air filled his lungs.
Saturday 21 January
Present day
Jessamine
Saturday morning, and Jessamine was back at Cassie’s Loughton maisonette. This time, Luca let her in without a fuss.
She followed him into the living room where a boy was sprawled on a beanbag in front of the TV. Matteo, Cassie’s son. His hair was almost Scandi-blond, buzz-cut close to his head, his skin the same golden biscuit colour as his father’s. He gave Jessamine a passing glance and went back to his cartoon.
‘Let’s go in the kitchen,’ said Luca. As he closed the door he dropped his voice. ‘It upsets him, hearing people talk about his mum.’
The house was warm, and as Jessamine took a seat at the table next to the fridge she felt her face flush. She took off her coat and wafted her shirt, trying to cool herself with the moving air. It was no good. Within seconds sweat had started to collect around her temples and in the hollow of her collarbone.
‘Tea?’ asked Luca, turning on the kettle.
‘A glass of water would be lovely,’ she said, fanning herself with her notepad.
He drew one from the tap, placed it on the table, then stood by the cooker while he waited for the kettle to boil. Reaching forward with fingernails bitten to the quick, he tapped out a beat on the hob’s cold surface. The action produced a dull, scuddy sound.
‘So you listened to the podcast,’ she said, trying to break the ice.
He stopped tapping. ‘I know we got off to a bad start and I’m still not sure how I feel about you, about how you’re using what happened, but the police . . .’ He stopped, not wanting or unable to finish the thought. ‘At least you’re trying.’ He was like a different man from the one she’d first encountered. Gentle, sensitive, thoughtful. Jessamine wasn’t taken in by any of it. She knew from her volunteer work at the helpline how these men could turn it on and off at will. It was how they got the women to stay after they’d hurt them, how they persuaded them that, from now on, things would be different.
Jessamine let his comments settle, and while he busied himself with the tea, she took the opportunity to have a proper look at the kitchen. The cooker, washing-machine and units formed an L on one side of the room. Opposite them were the round table and the chair on which she sat. Jessamine sniffed the air. Plates were piled in the sink, their surfaces scummed with old food, hard and brown, and the bin was overflowing, a banana skin and soggy Rice Krispies spilling over the side. She wondered if the kitchen was always like this or if Luca had failed to stay on top of things since Cassie had been gone.
‘Okay if I record our conversation?’
He looked at her phone, not sure.
‘It’s easier than taking notes. It doesn’t have to go in the podcast.’
‘Fine,’ he said eventually, coming to join her at the table.
She turned on her Voice Memo app and hit record. ‘Tell me about the day she went missing.’
‘I left the house at seven a.m. for work as usual and was back to back with deliveries all day.’ His answer was rote. The construction of the sentence, his tone. ‘I headed for home around four, got changed, went to Cadets and finished there around six.’
‘Then what?’
‘Cassie normally picks up Matteo from the after-school club. But I had all these messages. She hadn’t turned up.’
‘Marnie said that when you got to her house you’d showered.’ At the mention of Marnie’s name his body language changed. It was a slight action, a drawing up of the shoulders towards the ears that was part flinch, part shudder. ‘You always do that at the end of the day?’
‘Cadets can get a bit physical. Muddy.’
‘So, your wife has failed to pick up your son, it’s getting late, and you decide that instead of going to get him you’ll freshen up?’
‘He was at a friend’s,’ he said, a new barb to his voice. He caught himself and when he next spoke he’d curbed his tone. ‘He was safe. An extra hour wasn’t going to make much difference.’
‘Okay,’ she said, deciding to leave that for now. ‘Can we talk about your relationship with Cassie? How you met?’
‘Usual story. I was out one Friday night with my mates in a pub in Buckhurst Hill. She was there with her mates. I thought she was a tidy sort and asked if I could buy her a drink. It went on from there.’
‘And how long had you been together before you first hit her?’
At this he flinched. Then he smiled and shook his head, wagging his finger at her, as if she was a naughty schoolgirl.
Jessamine kept her voice neutral. He wasn’t getting off the hook that easily. ‘It’s documented fact, Luca. You have in the past been violent towards your wife.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘I went into Cassie’s work. Talked to her boss. He said she’d been off work ill a lot these last few months. I want to know why. Was she catching more colds than usual, was her depression getting worse or was she staying away because she had bruises she didn’t want people to see?’
‘I don’t know anything about her being off work.’ He seemed genuinely flummoxed. ‘I honestly can’t remember the last time she called in sick.’
Jessamine wanted to go on, to push him harder on the domestic violence, but she was now sweating so profusely that it had started to drip down her forehead into her eyes.
She got to her feet. ‘Can I use your bathroom?’
Distracted by her last revelation he barely looked up from his tea. ‘Up the stairs, first on the left.’
At the sink she threw palmfuls of cold water on her face until she felt the flush start to pass. As she was drying her face on the towel, her eye caught on shelf above the sink. It was lined with makeup. Presumably Cassie’s, left there in case she ever came back.
She was about to return downstairs when she noticed the door to the bedroom across the hall was open. She ventured a quick peek inside. It looked like the master bedroom, Cassie and Luca’s room. The double bed was unmade, the curtains still closed. On the right side of the bed, abandoned on the floor, there was a bra and a pair of knickers. A black lace thong. It seemed odd for Cassie’s underwear still to be there more than ten weeks after she’d disappeared. Then she thought of the dirty kitchen and the overflowing bin. Maybe he was just extremely lazy.
Back in the kitchen she retook her seat at the table. ‘Tell me more about Cassie. What was she like?’
‘She was devoted to Matteo. She said her mother wasn’t so great when she was growing up and felt it important to raise her own kids differently. She could have put him in nursery but she felt very strongly that she should be the one to take care of him while he was small. She would only go back to work once he started school and even then she wasn’t happy.’
‘Were you and Cassie having any money troubles?’
‘You heard about the after-school-club fees.’
Jessamine nodded.
‘We have a joint account. The same money was going in. I’ve checked. Cassie hasn’t been paying them for some reason. I don’t know why, or what she was doing with the cash.’
Luca was earnest but Jessamine wasn’t convinced. If Cassie had been trying to amass a secret fund – perhaps so she and Matteo could run away – and Luca had found out, who knew what he might have done? Especially if he’d discovered she was on the game. Pocketing the after-school-club fees was one thing, but prostituting herself?
‘This may seem like an odd question, but were you two planning on having any building work done?’ She knew Miguel’s architecture firm wasn’t likely to be involved in smal
l-fry domestic work but she wanted to be sure.
He gestured at the modest kitchen. ‘There’s not much scope for that kind of thing.’
She handed him a copy of the picture she’d found at the back of Cassie’s diary. ‘Do you know what this is?’
He looked at it and shook his head. ‘No idea.’
‘How about Wolsy Lodge? It’s a bed-and-breakfast in Oxfordshire. Ever been to stay there?’ she asked, deliberately barraging him with questions. She wanted answers to all of them but she also wanted to build up enough momentum to push him off-guard, unbalance him, to get him to reveal something he might be trying to hide.
‘No.’
‘And, as far as you know, did Cassie just have the one phone?’
That did it.
‘I knew it!’ He slammed his hand against the table. ‘She was having an affair.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Bed-and-breakfasts I’ve never heard of, secret phones, what am I supposed to think?’
‘Those things aside, did you get any sense that she might have been seeing someone?’
‘Nothing I can put my finger on. But these last few months, this last year even . . .’ He tailed off.
‘What is it?’’
‘It seemed like she was carrying something around inside her, something precious that no one else knew about. She was the same when she first got pregnant with Matteo. She kept it to herself for ages.’
‘So, just to confirm, as far as you’re concerned she only had the one phone?’
The doorbell rang but Luca made no attempt to answer it. ‘She’d had the same one for years. She never upgraded it.’ He nodded at the fridge. ‘That one there.’ He pulled a photo out from under a magnet and handed it to her. It was one of Matteo as a toddler. He had a phone squished against his cheek as though he was talking to someone. The casing on the back of the phone was customised, a large C picked out in white ‘diamonds’. Some of the stones had come away, leaving small black holes in their wake.
Matteo poked his head around the door. ‘Daddy, Jayden’s here.’
Luca smirked. ‘Let him in, then.’ He smiled at Jessamine. ‘Playdate.’
Jessamine gathered her things and went into the living room.
There, helping a small boy out of his coat and scarf was someone she knew.
‘Marnie?’
The younger woman blushed and gave her son a quick kiss. She told Luca she’d be back to collect him in a few hours and ushered Jessamine outside. ‘Before you say anything, I know this is weird.’ She gestured towards the maisonette. ‘But Jayden said that none of the other kids will come to play at Matteo’s house now. All this business with Cassie. I felt sorry for him.’
Marnie’s explanation was plausible but she wasn’t just any random school mum: she claimed to hate Luca, whom she knew to be a violent and dangerous man. Not someone you’d leave in charge of your son.
Jessamine decided to let it slide, for now. ‘Actually, I’m glad we bumped into each other. The other night I saw you at the Army Reserve Centre.’
Marnie’s face had been twisted into a sheepish grimace but now that expression disappeared, to be replaced by something else. Fear?
‘You were there?’
‘Investigating Luca, like you asked me to.’
Marnie looked to the floor, thinking.
‘So?’ Jessamine prompted.
‘I pick up a neighbour as a favour sometimes. A girl who lives on my street. The centre’s on my way home.’
A flimsy lie.
‘I need to update you on where I’ve got to with the case. Maybe we should get together for a catch-up.’ In truth Jessamine wanted more time to find out what was really going on with Marnie and the babysitter.
That perked her up. ‘Wednesday night? I’m usually back from work around seven. Come to the house?’
‘Perfect.’
*
Jessamine was halfway down the A12, almost home, when her phone rang. Jitesh.
She put it on speaker. ‘I’ve just finished with Luca,’ she said. ‘He was incredibly candid, although I still think he’s hiding something. And you won’t believe who arrived as I was leaving – our friend Marnie.’
‘Ch-ch-check your email. Now,’ said Jitesh. ‘S-s-s-someone with information just got in touch.’
‘Great. Did they know her, Cassie?’
‘Th-that’s just it,’ he said. ‘Cassie Sc-scolari isn’t her real name.’
Monday 23 January
Present day
Jessamine
Jessamine stood at the front of the Chancery Lane Costa and searched the room for a woman wearing a cream coat and purple scarf. She soon spotted her sitting in a corner on a low sofa.
Her name was Erin Cohen. A PA at a law firm in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, Erin claimed to have known Cassie as a teenager and had dropped the bombshell that Cassie was not her real name.
The two women shook hands and sat down opposite each other.
‘Thanks for meeting,’ said Jessamine, getting out her notepad.
‘I’m here on my lunch hour.’ Erin scanned the coffee shop, left to right, as if she was expecting someone else to come and join them. ‘I can’t stay long.’ She wore a thick layer of foundation and beige iridescent lipstick. The skin tone on her face did not match that of her neck.
‘So, you listened to the podcast?’ said Jessamine.
‘I did.’ Erin’s eyes flicked towards the entrance and Jessamine saw that her makeup thinned a little where her cheek met her ear. Just beneath the surface there was a smattering of acne scars. ‘Someone was going on about it in the break room at work. I like listening to that sort of stuff on my commute so I downloaded it. After the first episode I wanted to put a face to the name so I googled her, Cassie. One of the news articles had a picture. I recognised her straight away. But not as Cassie, as Rowena.’
‘Rowena? What was her surname?’
‘Garbutt.’
Jessamine had called Luca as soon as she’d got home on Saturday night with the news that someone had come forward claiming Cassie was not his wife’s real name. Luca had been genuinely shocked and had said that it was probably a hoax and that he wouldn’t believe it, not until he saw proof.
‘Look, I know I contacted you but I can’t go on record with this. I won’t.’ Again, Erin’s eyes flicked around the room. ‘Nobody knows about my life back then, not my husband, not my friends, not my work. And I don’t want them to know.’ So, Jessamine thought, Erin was constantly checking the café because she was worried about being overheard. ‘But in the podcast you mentioned Rowena, I mean Cassie, has a little boy so I thought you should know, her family too. In case it was of any help.’
‘When was the last time you saw Rowena?’
‘That’s just it. I hadn’t seen her in years, not since we were kids. But a few months ago she called me at work. She found me on the company website.’
Jessamine felt a flutter of excitement. ‘Why?’
‘I didn’t speak to her, she left a message. She said something about wanting my help. She asked me to call her back.’
‘And did you?’
Erin reached for the empty sachet of sugar next to her coffee cup and crumpled it in her palm. ‘I’ve worked really hard to leave behind who I was. I’ve got a good job, a family.’
‘Erin, how did you know her?’
Again, she checked the nearby tables for potential eavesdroppers. ‘Growing up I was a bit wild. I lived with my mum, but she wasn’t around much. I got into some stuff I shouldn’t. Parties with older men.’ She shuddered. ‘That’s where I met Rowena.’
‘Who were the men?’
‘They were all rich, powerful. Some were famous. I still see some of them on the telly. Gives me the creeps. Most of the girls they brought along were like Rowena, from care homes.’
‘Rowena grew up in care?’
‘From the age of four. Her mum was on the game, kept leaving her alone at night. One ni
ght while her mum was gone Rowena woke up and went looking for her. Ended up out in the street in her pyjamas.’
Jessamine showed her the sketch she’d found at the back of Cassie’s diary. ‘Does this mean anything to you?’
Erin studied it and shook her head.
‘How about this address?’ She showed her the Oxfordshire postcode and the name of the nearby village. ‘Did you ever go to parties there, or at a flat in Gloucester Road?’
‘No, they were always in the same place. By the river. Dolphin Square.’
Jessamine’s eyes widened. The press had speculated about Dolphin Square and the rumoured goings-on there for years, but as yet, the police had been unable to prove anything.
‘I have to get back.’ Erin retrieved her bag from the floor and wound her scarf a little tighter around her neck. ‘The person you need to talk to is Queenie O’Leary. She and Ro were close.’
‘Any idea how I might find her?’
Erin shrugged. ‘She lived in Brixton. Grew up there. But that was years ago.’
As soon as she was gone Jessamine emailed Jitesh with an update and asked him to see what he could find on Queenie O’Leary. Then she messaged Ellen, Sarah’s social worker, and asked how she might go about tracking down the record of a child who had once been in care.
Why had Cassie changed her name? Because, like Erin, she wanted to leave that part of her life behind? Odd that the police hadn’t clocked it. Surely it would have shown up on the system? And why had Cassie got in touch with Erin after all this time? What had she needed her help with? Whatever the answers, Jessamine now had the feeling that the key to Cassie’s disappearance lay not in her present, but in her past.
Wednesday 25 January
Present day
Jessamine
Wednesday night, rush-hour. There was surprisingly little traffic and Jessamine arrived at Marnie’s house half an hour early. She parked and turned off the engine. The hall light was on but she decided to give it another ten minutes before she went in. She’d use the time to go through her inbox.
The Dangerous Kind Page 23