by Helen Oliver
Mrs Fox sank onto the bed, put her head in hands and broke into choking sobs. Cally put a hand on her shoulder, felt the heat of her dread. “I won’t be much longer,” she promised.
Opening the wardrobe door, she pointed to a group of empty hangers. “Might Judi have packed the clothes that were hanging there?”
The reply was barely a whisper. “I expect so.”
“And the shoe rail at the bottom?”
Mrs Fox made a huge effort. “It looks as if she’s taken sandals and a pair of walking shoes. If she goes on to Dorset she’ll need those.”
Cally carefully picked up a comb on the dressing table. “Is this Judi’s?” With the woman’s nod, and her eyes indicating the dying of hope, Cally took a plastic bag from her handbag and dropped it in.
“Are you wanting that for DNA?”
Cally said gently, “It’s marvellous, DNA. Tells us so much.”
“Not just when a person’s dead?”
“Absolutely not.”
Mrs Fox looked up, seemed to brighten for a moment. “Do you think Judi might have made a sudden decision – to take her luggage and go with whoever came to the door?”
“Wasn’t she ready for bed?”
“Not when I handed her the phone.”
Cally was silent for a moment. “It’s probably best not to speculate.”
On their way downstairs Cally said she’d like to look in the garden shed. Turning to make sure she’d been heard, she realized Kate Fox didn’t trust herself to speak. However, she did, and put her head round the living room door. “We’re popping into the garden, Colin. To look in the shed.”
He nodded, leaned back and closed his eyes.
Normally, Cally thought, Dunedin’s back garden would be perfect for an early evening glass of wine. Not so perfect now: with Mrs Fox waiting for her to open the shed door. Relief though, when she was able to say, “I can see your husband’s touch in here. A place for everything, and everything in its place.”
Kate Fox forced a smile. “That’s his motto.”
*
Cally dialled Hammond. “Sorry, boss, I think we’ll need uniform. My money’s on Judi Fox not being with us anymore. I think we’re looking for a body.”
“We’ll need house-to-house.” Hammond paused. “Anything on the car?”
“Only that Fox’s black Mazda is still in her parents’ garage. It’s probably the car Lyn Worsnop spotted.”
30
Lucy had imagined the drive from the hospital to Spring House. Mum would have picked her and Leo up. Would Jez have been with them? She was starting to find it hard to remember why they got together in the first place. There’d been something different about him: the way he went on demos, wanting to change the world. He’d woken something in her, and not only thoughts about the planet and fracking.
There was another way in which he was utterly fantastic.
But with Mum feeling like she did, he’d been an outsider. Lucy tried to feel sorry for how he must be feeling now.
No way had she thought Dylan would turn out to be Leo’s father. Just a quick shag, with a boxing match going on in the background; plus he was nothing like as good as Jez. Her emotions were all over the place. Even when she told herself she felt guilty about Jez, she didn’t think she was feeling the real thing. The same with Leo. Everyone said he was gorgeous. The psychologist said it wasn’t unusual for mothers not to bond with their baby straight away.
The funeral had been a nightmare. She couldn’t believe Mum was in that coffin. She couldn’t think who was, but it can’t have been Mum. She wished so much they hadn’t had that row the morning before she died. But honestly, when Mum fessed up her crazy idea about another baby. Pure bonkers. Now Mum was gone – and it couldn’t happen anyway – she was hugely relieved she’d not told anyone.
Though Mum could be a snob, she would have loved Leo. She wasn’t a racist. In fact she was a bit of a snob about not being a racist.
She’d been working up to this all day. And here they were: Leo strapped into his baby seat and Harriet driving them to Wychwood.
Dad hadn’t seen the baby yet. The only time she’d seen Dad since Leo was born was at the funeral. Harriet said she thought he’d come to see them when they’d had a few days to settle in.
*
Hammond listened to background sounds of press office chatter. Harry Davies came to the phone. “Got your message. Is it a good likeness, the photo of Judi Fox?”
“Very good, apparently.” Hammond stretched out an arm, saved a top-heavy file from sliding off the desk. “And recent.”
“How much d’you want to make of her and Sykes being engaged?”
“Not sure. They weren’t together anymore.” Hammond felt for his coffee mug. Stone cold. “Sykes’s details are nationwide.”
Harry said, “Could they be together now – Sykes and Fox?”
“They could be, but there’s no proof.”
“Any proof of anything?”
Hammond stood up, stretched his legs. “We’re following up leads.”
Harry laughed. “Of course you are.”
“We’ll be grateful for any sightings. You can quote me.”
Harry said, “It’s a strong story, this. Direct connections with April Parsons. Killer still at large.” A pause, and he added, “Too good to bury. Mind if I get the Post to put someone on it double quick?” He paused. “Leanne Robb?
The ferret, thought Hammond. They could do with a ferret. “That’d be good. Thanks.”
Davies said, “How are you these days?”
“Much the same. You?”
“Yeah. We must have that jar.”
Hammond ended the call. When would he have time for anything, let alone a pint with Davies? Or ‘The Tempest’ in Bristol.
“Sir?”
Akpata stood in the doorway, fresh as a daisy. He didn’t know much about her. Cally probably did. The girl was a bright spark, he ought to know more.
“What is it Kylie?”
“I wondered if it would progress the enquiry if I looked into Judi Fox’s Reiki clients.” She lifted her chin. “It’s my Saturday off tomorrow, but something like this, sir…it’s the first case since I joined where the death isn’t knife-crime or to do with drugs.”
Hammond said, “What about the guy who killed his wife’s lover?”
“Yes, sir. But he confessed straight away. It didn’t need detective work.” She looked serious, though no less beautiful. “This is different.”
Hammond nodded. “Are there any more at home like you?”
“Seven in all, sir.”
“Full house, then.”
“Two are nursing in Leeds, sir, and my elder brother’s at med school.” She smiled. “The house is what Mum calls rambling.”
“How about your parents?” Careful. He didn’t want to look nosy. “Are they both working?”
“Dad’s a United Reformed minister.”
Hammond smiled. “Okay, Kylie, you can get over to Little Brampton. First thing tomorrow, if you like.”
“Yes, sir.”
“See if you can get hold of Fox’s appointments book.” He asked himself why no one had done this before, then remembered it was only hours since the woman went missing.
*
As they pulled up in front of the garage, Lucy steadied Leo’s baby seat.
Harriet said, “Don’t move, Lucy, I’ll help you out.” Diana Bloom, as elegant as ever, came hurrying towards the car. She opened the left-hand door. “Hello, Lucy!”
Harriet leaned in to reach Leo in his car seat. “It’s all right, Mother, I’ll get him.”
Indoors, Lucy eyed the staircase and wondered if she and Leo would be going up straight away. She hoped so. Perhaps, now they were out of hospital, she’d be able to relax and Leo would be better at breast-feeding. She leaned against the post at the bottom of the stairs. Perhaps best not to mention feeding. She said weakly to Harriet, “He might need his nappy changing.”
; Diana said, “Come upstairs, Lucy. When you’ve sorted him out we’ll make a cup of something.”
Lucy hadn’t remembered seeing the room before, but it was okay. About the size she would have had at Spring House. The cot and mobile Mum bought were already here. Diana said, “Leo’s a bit young for the cot. He can sleep in the Moses basket until it looks as if he needs more space.” She laid him gently in the middle of Lucy’s bed, where he looked totally perfect against the pastel shades of the duvet.
*
Harriet came into the room with a pack of disposable nappies, plus a collection of other baby needs. She lowered them onto the floor by the window. “There we are. I’ll go down and put the kettle on.”
Diana said, “Lucy, would you like to deal with Leo?”
“No, it’s all right. You can.”
Diana undid the poppers. “I’ll do it for now,” she said, and extricated his legs from the lemon-coloured stretch fabric.
Lucy stared. “You do that like you’ve done it all your life,” she said, and started to cry. This started Leo off, and Harriet – coming up to take orders for tea or coffee – said, “Whatever’s this, the Wailing Wall?”
31
Akpata bombed along the road to Little Brampton. Reduced her speed to thirty when she reached the village. Ahead of her, a dark blue Mini also slowed and stopped outside Dunedin. Parking up behind it, Kylie asked herself if she should wait for a moment to see if the driver, possibly the reporter DCI Hammond talked about, would call at No. 9. Assuming this was the girl from the Post, oughtn’t Akpata get out of her car and be first on the doorstep? The decision was taken out of her hands: while she waited for a cyclist to pass, the girl swung her legs out of the Mini and walked briskly towards the Foxes’ door. Akpata followed fast, had her fingers round her warrant card before anyone came to the door. The blonde turned quickly, eyebrows raised. Akpata smiled. “DC Akpata, North Yorkshire Police.”
“Hi. Leanne Robb, the Post.”
Akpata said quietly, “Go easy, they’re very fragile.”
Leanne Robb said, “I’ve done this sort of thing before.”
Mrs Fox opened the door. To Akpata, the poor woman looked worse than she had before. “Hello, Mrs Fox. It’s me again.”
Kate Fox squinted at the blonde. “Are you a detective?”
Leanne Robb made to cross the step, but Akpata put a hand on her arm. “This is Miss Robb from the Post. We’re hoping a spot of publicity will help in our search for Judi.”
Mrs Fox put on a brave face. “That sounds promising.”
Strained pleasantries were exchanged in the front room, Colin Fox seeming less ready to have his say than the day before. Akpata eyed Leanne Robb. “I’d like a word alone with Mrs Fox. Will you keep Mr Fox company for a bit?” Leanne smiled at Mr Fox. “We’ll manage that, won’t we?” and for a moment his face lit up.
In the kitchen, Mrs Fox lifted the kettle. “Would you and the reporter like a cup of tea?”
Akpata shook her head. “I think she’s short of time, and there are one or two things I need to ask you.”
“I’ll help if I possibly can.”
Akpata waited for a second or two. “Does Judi keep a list of her Reiki clients, or a diary with information that might help?”
“She has a diary. I just hope she didn’t take it with her.”
“Do you mind if we have a look?”
Holding the banister for support, Mrs Fox led the way to her daughter’s bedroom. She opened the wardrobe door and felt along the top shelf. “This is where she usually keeps paperwork.” She gave an annoyed sigh. “Oh blow, she’s moved things again.”
Akpata hid her disappointment. “What sort of things?”
“She keeps her diaries and her Reiki address book, in an old –” She turned round. “Ah, wait a minute.” She crossed to the bed, kicked gently under it, bent down and pulled out an old leather briefcase. “Here we are,” she said and handed Akpata the address book and a handful of diaries.
“Thank you, Mrs Fox.”
The two went downstairs again, to where Leanne Robb was talking to Colin Fox and writing hard at the same time. The journalist looked up. “I’m looking forward to hearing your own thoughts on Judi, Mrs Fox.”
“My thoughts?”
“We want to give our readers a real picture of Judi – not just a photograph. The more folk know about her, the more likely it is we can jog someone’s memory. We –”
Mrs Fox interrupted. “Do you think she might have lost her memory?”
Akpata said, “We need to keep an open mind.”
Leanne looked up. “All right if I carry on here, Constable?”
Akpata nodded. “Absolutely, though I’d best head off.”
Mrs Fox closed her eyes for a moment. “What day is it?”
“Saturday,” said Akpata. She made sure the Foxes had her phone number and DS Burns’s and told the couple they weren’t to hesitate to call if they needed anything.
*
It was time to go home but eager to show the boss Judi Fox’s diaries, Akpata hurried up the station steps. It was quiet in Reception: the lull before a Saturday night storm? The only sign of life was a pair of pasty-faced lads in hoodies, sat on a bench waiting for a despised pig to make their lives even more miserable.
She made for the Incident Room, where two PCs looked up as she came in. Ollie Stoppard grinned, “You’re looking pleased with yourself.”
She gave a little shrug. “Am I?”
Josh Haig tipped back his chair. “You bloody are.”
Akpata leaned on Ollie’s desk. “I’ve got some interesting stuff on Judi Fox.”
A voice behind her said, “Glad to hear it.”
She turned quickly. “Sir?”
Hammond looked at Stoppard and the fat-faced Haig. “Has Kerridge been in touch?”
Ollie answered. “Yes, sir. Overtime tomorrow. Search for the missing woman, but she didn’t say where. Eight of them, sir.”
“Good.” He turned to Akpata. “My office, please.”
Wary, had she done something wrong, she followed Hammond.
“Take a seat, Kylie”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Right. So what’s this about interesting stuff?”
She relaxed as he watched her lift small books out of her bag-cum-holdall. “Mrs Fox gave me Judi Fox’s Reiki address book, and some diaries. Apparently she kept a new one each year.” She handed him the current diary. “I had a quick glance in the car. There’s all sorts in here.”
Hammond opened it, turned a few pages. “What’s the significance, I wonder, of the dates circled in red.”
Composed, Akpata said, “Menstruation, sir. She circles it every month.”
He nodded. “Ah.” He looked at the following month. “This isn’t exactly a month ahead. Or even a calendar month.”
“Periods aren’t always on the dot, sir.”
They were silent for a few minutes while Hammond examined further entries. “Two of the most recent dates have a kind of smiley emoji beside the circle.” He frowned “And here’s a grumpy one.” He turned the diary round for Akpata to see.
She glanced quickly. “Mmm. I noticed those. Various reasons, I expect.”
Hammond looked up. “Such as?”
“Smiley ones for periods that arrived on time? The grumpy one might mean she had bad stomach cramps that month. More than just the first day.”
“Okay. Now, her Reiki clients?”
“She didn’t have many, sir. Only eight according to the list.”
Hammond said, “Give the address book to PC Higgins. Ask her to follow up Fox’s clients.”
“Yes, sir.” She frowned. “Going back to the diaries, there’s a funny thing about the current year.”
He smiled. “How long were you in the car?”
“Not long, sir. I’m a fast reader.” She paused. “I was going to say that she doesn’t talk about people.”
“How d’you mean?”
&nbs
p; “For instance, if she makes an entry about going out for coffee, she doesn’t say who with. Her parents are the only folk she names. Like taking her mum to the hairdresser or her dad for a hospital appointment.” She paused. “It’s like she wouldn’t want anyone coming across her diary to find out too much.”
“Do we know if she had – has – a job, other than her Reiki work?”
“There was a business card of hers, sir, tucked in an earlier diary. Looks like she was an assistant manager at a therapy centre. I checked it out. Seems to have gone out of business.” She looked at Hammond, chose the present tense carefully. “She’s probably hoping to grow the business. Although she doesn’t mention her by name, we know she knew April Parsons. She must be hoping she’d recommend Reiki to her aromatherapy clients.”
Hammond looked in the current diary again. “Did Fox make an entry about the Bath convention?”
“Yes, and she made a note about checking the car, ready for the drive.” She waited until Hammond had checked the Bath entry. “Sir, while I was at Little Brampton, a reporter arrived from the Post.”
Hammond said, “Good, they haven’t wasted any time. Did the Foxes agree to talk to her?
“There didn’t seem to be a problem, sir.”
“Excellent.”
Akpata said, “I wonder how close Parsons was to Judi Fox.”
Hammond put the diaries together. “Fairly close, I would have thought.” He smiled. “Now then, DC Akpata – time you weren’t here.”
“Thank you, sir.” She stood up. “Will you show the diaries to DS Burns?”