by Helen Oliver
“We’re not right sure.”
Though she knew they weren’t in the group, Akpata asked, “Are you or your husband in this photograph?”
“We’ll not be in that.” The woman was curious, though, took her glasses off and held the paper close to her face. She pointed to Jez. “Seen ’im before.”
Akpata pointed to the young woman next to Jez. “Do you know who she is?”
She nodded. “Judi Fox, they call her. Her sister makes rugs.”
“Is she local, her sister?”
“Aye.” She turned stiffly. “See along there. Compton House, used to belong to Fullerton family.”
Akpata followed the woman’s gaze. “The one with tall chimneys?”
“Aye. They’re back, Bert saw car.”
“Have they been away?”
“When aren’t they? All right for some.”
Akpata nodded. “Must be nice.” She smiled. “I’ll pop in and make myself known.”
“You tell her Annie Enticknap sent you.” She gave her dentures a click. “I were Annie Enderby when I met me husband. You know what they say?”
“No?”
“Change the name and not the letter, change for worse and not for better.” She smiled triumphantly. “Me and him, though, we’ve been all right. Married sixty-seven year come September.”
Akpata said, “Congratulations, that’s fantastic.” She put a hand on the old woman’s crinkly arm. “Do you know where Judi Fox lives?”
The woman shook her head slowly. “She’s not local.”
Damn and blast.
“Lives over Little Brampton way.”
Akpata had seen it on the map. “Not far then.”
The old woman frowned. “A good four or five mile.”
Akpata was conscious of Mrs Enticknap watching as she headed for Judi Fox’s sister who made rugs. She rang the bell beside the blue front door. Soon opened by a young woman with red hair and a fine nose. Akpata showed her ID.
The woman stood back. “Do come in.”
“Thank you.” She stepped inside, stared at the rugs hanging from the walls.” Wow. Did you make all these?”
“I did.” She looked amused. “That wasn’t a guess, was it.”
“Mrs Enticknap told me, but she didn’t tell me your name.”
“Zena Bailey.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Come through to the kitchen. Is this about Parallel Tomorrows?”
“I’m sorry?”
Zena Bailey ushered her into a roomy kitchen, where there were more rugs on a stone wall opposite an Aga. “I can fill you in on the details,” she said, and picked up a kettle. “Coffee? Or would you prefer tea?”
“I won’t at the moment, thank you.” She took a second or two. “I think we may be talking at crossed purposes.” Another second. “I believe Judi Fox is your sister.”
The young woman stiffened. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m hoping you can help with our enquiries.” Akpata dipped into her bag, produced the photo. “Is this your sister, at the end of the line on the right?”
She nodded. “That’s Judi.”
“Your neighbour tells me she lives in Little Brampton.”
“With our parents, yes.” Zena Bailey pulled out two chairs beside a long table. “Do sit down.” She smiled. “To tell you the truth, I thought you’d come about the painting. Stolen last week in York, while we were still away. My husband is Max Bailey, the painter.”
Akpata looked thoughtful. “His name rings a bell.” Not. She took out her notebook. “May I have your parents’ address?”
“Dunedin, 9 Glone End, Little Brampton.”
“How are you spelling Dunedin?”
Zena spelt it out, then put her hand round a cone of crimson wool, found a loose end and tugged at it. Her composure seemed to take a slide. “Is this about April Parsons?”
“Yes, it is.”
“We only just heard the awful news.” She took a breath. “What exactly has this to do with Judi?”
“We believe your sister knew April Parsons.”
Worry pinched her face. “Judi and I aren’t in daily touch.” Her fingers tightened on the wool. “I can’t pretend we’re terribly close, though she did tell me she was going to a health convention in Bath.”
“You didn’t know she called at Spring House on the morning Mrs Parsons was found dead?”
She shook her head. “What made you think she did?”
“Someone identified her from a photograph they saw later.” She paused. “Is your sister an aromatherapist?”
“No, she’s a Reiki healer.”
Akpata didn’t ask how to spell it. “Would you have expected your sister to attend Mrs Parsons’s funeral?”
“We’ve been away in Barbados. …When was it?”
“Last Thursday.”
“Judi didn’t go?”
“No.”
Zena Bailey checked a calendar on the wall. “Have you been in touch with our parents?” She frowned. “I don’t think they got back from their trip until yesterday. I ought to have phoned.”
“Where did they go?”
“Sussex.”
Akpata’s pen hovered over her notebook. “Do you know what day they left?”
“I think the Wednesday before last.”
Akpata nodded, made a note. “I must be getting on,” she said. “Thank you for your help.”
Zena led Akpata into the hall. Pulling open the front door, she asked, “Will you be calling on our parents?”
She glanced at her watch. “Yes. And I may need to contact you again.”
“Take my card,” Zena said, and picked one from a small tray. Handing the rug maker a card of her own, Akpata smiled. “Exchange is no robbery.”
She slid into the Clio and made a note of Judi Fox’s intention of attending a convention in Bath.
*
Cally picked up her phone. “DS Burns.”
“Sarge, it’s Kylie.”
“Hi Kylie. How’re you getting on?”
“The woman in the photo is called Judi Fox. She lives in Little Brampton.”
“Brilliant! Not in Kirk Pulham, then.”
“No, but her sister does. Though I don’t get the impression they’re bosom buddies. Long story short: I’m off to see the parents.” She hesitated. “If that’s all right with you, Sarge.”
“That’s fine, as long as….”
Akpata tensed. “Yes?”
“You get something to eat first.”
She laughed. “Sorted.”
“What’s the sister’s name?”
“Zena Bailey.”
Cally said, “Makes rugs.”
“How did you know that?”
“I’m a detective.”
27
Jez Hemsworth kicked open the back door, turned to the dogs in the garden. “Shut the fuck up!”
Martina hurried into the kitchen. “Where the hell’ve you been? I’ve been worried sick.” She sniffed his breath. “Drownin’ your sorrows?”
“You would, if you were me.” He forced her to look at him. “You were all over Lucy like a rash when you thought you were goin’ to be a nan.”
“That were then.” She rolled her eyes. “Police are after you again. Black lass, this time. Had a newspaper photo of you.”
Jez brightened. “Me at Catch?”
“No, you at a fracking demo in Kirk Pulham. She wanted name of woman stood next to you.”
*
Mal knocked, pushed the door open. “Sir, thought you’d want to know.”
Hammond looked up from this screen. “Yes?”
“David Marsh. Came in to talk about the Parsons’s murder?”
“What about him?”
“He’s dead, sir. RTA early hours of this morning.”
“Good God. Whereabouts?”
“Leeds Road. Other side of Harewood.”
“Let me have details.”
“Sir.”
Mal closed the door. Hammond pulled up local news on his PC and called Cally.
“Hi, Steve.”
“News just in. David Marsh. Died in an RTA. I’ll fill you in when I get official details.”
28
The Post Office sandwich had been good. Akpata screwed up the wrapping, let in the clutch, waited for a Porsche to pass, and drew out. Covering four miles, she drove through open country and woodland until she reached Little Brampton. (Speed limit 20.) It wasn’t, she thought, as picturesque as Kirk Pulham. All the same, she wouldn’t have said no to a house there: including a husband to mow the lawn, grow vegetables and take care of the kids while she got on with being a DI.
She spotted the sign, Glone End, and parked up in front of number nine: neat, detached and on the left. She reckoned Zena Bailey (nee Fox) must have gone up in the world. Perhaps Max Bailey and the stolen painting were world famous.
She blew her nose gently, checked her make-up in the visor mirror and climbed out of the car. Halfway up the garden path she spotted a net curtain dropping into place. Before she reached the door, it was opened and a woman stood waiting for her.
Akpata said, “Mrs Fox?”
The woman gave a nervous smile. “Come in.” She stepped back, eager to close the front door. “My daughter phoned, we were half expecting you. We’ll go into the living room.” She called over her shoulder. “Colin!”
Colin Fox, bent, and older than his wife, shuffled into the front room. He nodded a head that looked too heavy for his neck. “Good afternoon.”
The couple stood awkwardly, and Akpata said, “DC Kylie Akpata. I’m with North Yorkshire Police.” She paused. “Is it all right if we sit down?”
Mrs Fox waved a hand. “Please do.”
Akpata smiled at Mr Fox. “Don’t let me take your chair,” she said, and made for the sofa, where Mrs Fox joined her. “Mrs Bailey told me you returned from holiday yesterday.”
Mr Fox eased himself into the armchair next to the fireplace. “Would you mind coming to the point.”
“Colin, please.”
Akpata put her notebook on her knee. “It’s quite all right, honestly.” She smoothed a page, turned to Mrs Fox. “Did Mrs Bailey tell you I’d been hoping to talk to your daughter, Judi?”
Her husband said, “That’s what we don’t understand.” He straightened up, which seemed to cause pain. “If your enquiries are concerned with the death of Mrs Parsons, which by the way, we only heard about when we got back yesterday, we’re wondering what this has this to do with Judi.”
Mrs Fox linked her fingers tightly. “Zena says Judi may have called on Mrs Parsons on the day she …”
Akpata helped her out. “On the day she died.”
Colin Fox strained forward in his chair. “Where did she die?”
“At home.”
Mrs Fox waited a moment. “She and Judi were going to Bath the next day.”
Akpata made a quick note. “We believe your daughter called at Spring House, not long after nine o’clock on the Tuesday morning.”
“That sounds about right,” said Mrs Fox. ‘I think she and Mrs Parsons planned a late breakfast in Harrogate.”
Akpata asked, “Did your daughter mention not having seen Mrs Parsons?”
Mrs Fox said, “She may have done, though only in passing.”
“Did Judi seem worried they hadn’t met up?”
“I would have been,” Mrs Fox said, “but that’s Judi all over. She knew Mrs Parsons was busy with last minute arrangements for the trip. Not to mention the new baby on the way.”
“Did Judi not think it odd that Mrs Parsons didn’t get in touch later?”
Mrs Fox glanced at her husband. “We assumed she had been.”
Akpata asked, “Did they plan to go to Bath together?”
Mrs Fox shook her head. “They were each going under their own steam. After the convention, Judi wanted a few days in the West Country. She’s extremely fond of Dorset.”
“I presume she was ready to leave?”
“Yes, and so were we. We left for Sussex on the Wednesday afternoon.”
Akpata wrote quickly, looked up. “Did you both see her off?”
Mr Fox looked over his glasses. “Now look here -”
“Colin.”
“I’m sorry, Mr Fox. I’m not trying to pry, but for everyone’s sake it’s necessary to get events in order.”
“How do you mean events?” asked Mrs Fox.
Okay. “To be blunt – and I know it’s not good – we’re talking about a murder enquiry. If we’re to get to the bottom of things, we need every possible scrap of information.”
Colin Fox took a deep breath. “I apologise. And to answer your question – no, Judi left very early and we didn’t see her off.”
Akpata leaned forward. “You’ve every reason, Mr Fox, to wonder what this has to do with you and your daughter.” She paused. “Has she been in touch at all?”
His wife said, “You mean since we got back?”
“Or while you were away. Have you had contact with her since you left for Sussex that afternoon?”
Mr Fox shook his head. “None.” He turned to his wife. “We haven’t, have we, Kate? Judi hasn’t been in touch.”
Akpata asked, “Have you heard from any of her friends?”
“Well, we wouldn’t.” Mrs Fox paused. “If she’s not here she uses her phone for everything. Anyone wanting her would phone first. Or text her.”
Akpata waited before asking, “Is there a boyfriend? Or should I say male friend?”
Mr Fox said, “There was.”
His wife said, “Judi was engaged, but it didn’t work out. We were disappointed, weren’t we Colin?”
“We were.”
Akpata raised her pen. “May I have her fiancé’s name?”
Kate Fox said, “Russell.”
Her husband nodded. “Russell Sykes. I think Judi got to know Mrs Parsons through Russell. He’s her gardener, you know. Bright fellow, clever landscaping ideas. We liked him.”
“Actually, Colin, I think it was the other way round. I’m pretty sure they met through complementary medicine.” Mrs Fox turned to Akpata. “Judi is a Reiki healer.”
“So Mrs Bailey said.” Akpata underscored a line. “When did she and Russell Sykes get engaged?”
“About a year ago,” said Mrs Fox. “It only lasted three or four months.”
“Who broke off the engagement?”
“Judi.”
“Silly girl,” said her husband.
There was a thoughtful silence before Akpata said, “Can you think back to the night before you all went away.”
Mr Fox moved his shoulders and winced. “The Tuesday night?”
“Yes.”
Kate Fox looked at her husband. “You went to bed early.”
“So I did.”
His wife explained. “Colin needed a good night’s sleep. Ready for the journey.”
“Which of you was driving?”
Mr Fox looked resigned. “We gave up the car. Trains and taxis nowadays. My wife doesn’t drive.”
Kate Fox took a breath, sounded nervous. “You’re asking about the night before the three of us were going away. Colin and I to Sussex, Judi to Bath?”
Akpata nodded, “It’s useful to have as much detail as possible.”
Colin Fox said, “Someone came to the door. I was asleep. My wife heard the doorbell.”
Akpata asked, “When was this?”
“Quite late,” Mrs Fox said. “Judi was in her room.”
Akpata’s pen went to work. She looked up. “How late? Can you be more specific?”
“Probably about eleven. I said, ‘Someone’s at the door, Judi. Can you go?’ She went down of course, then came hurrying up again. Whoever it was needed to borrow the phone because their car had broken down. I’d forgotten to put back the phone from the hall. I gave it to her, and she went running down.”
Akpata raised her pen. “This person who’d broken down. Man or
woman?”
Kate Fox said, “I assumed it was a man. It could have been a woman of course. Judi didn’t actually say.” She frowned. “It was a wet night, and I thought how awful, breaking down in this.” She paused. “We needed it. The rain, I mean.”
“So you’ve no idea who this person was.”
Kate Fox shook her head. “I called to Judi when she was downstairs. You know, just in case…”
“In case of what?”
“Nothing really. But you know…at that time of night.” She hesitated. “I’d have gone down myself, but I’d got ready for bed.”
“When you called out, did your daughter reply?”
Kate Fox said quickly, “Oh yes. She said something about it being all right, and she was coming up in a minute.”
“And did she come up?”
“Well, she must have done.” She looked embarrassed: “But I needed to go to the loo.”
Colin Fox asked, “Have the police been in touch with the people in Bath?” He paused. “To let them know about April Parsons,”
Akpata nodded. “They have, yes.”
“Did they mention Judi?”
Akpata was circumspect. “I wouldn’t have thought so. After all, they weren’t driving down together.”
Kate Fox said, “So Judi might have gone to the convention, then moved on to Dorset.”
Her husband tried to shake his head. “Without wondering where Mrs Parsons had got to? Without asking if they’d heard why her friend didn’t take up her place?” His face was on the brink of crumpling. “Miss…?”
“Please. Call me Kylie.”
“Has anyone,” he said, “asked if our daughter was there?”
Akpata stood up, put her notebook and pen in her bag. “I’m not sure on that point.” She paused. “What is your daughter’s make of car?”
Colin Fox had difficulty getting his breath. “Mazda.”
“And the colour?”
“Black.”
Akpata said evenly. “Have you checked your garage?”
“Not since we got back.” He paused. “Judi will have made sure the car was ready for the journey. Oil and water. Tyres.” He frowned. “I assumed she topped up with petrol on her way back from Harrogate.”
Tears sprang to Kate Fox’s eyes. “She left very early. When I got up to make our pot of tea, her luggage was gone.”