Suspects, p.19
Suspects, page 19
Nina put the plates in the dishwasher, then got out her box of nail stuff. ‘You choose the polish you’d like,’ she said. ‘I’ll just get some warm water for the manicure.’
Conrad winked at Nina.
Amy found a black varnish. ‘I can’t imagine you wearing this,’ she said.
‘I think I only got it for Halloween,’ Nina said. ‘I didn’t know Con when he was a Goth, or I might have been tempted.’
Nina set a side table in front of Amy and put her equipment on it, then pulled up a stool for herself. Amy’s nails were badly bitten, and she’d been chewing the skin around them. Nina filed the nails smooth, removed the hangnails and soaked Amy’s hands in a bowl of warm water.
‘You must stop biting around your nails, sweetie,’ she said. ‘You’ll make them sore and you might get an infection. Does Mum ever do your nails?’
Amy shook her head. ‘No. But she doesn’t really notice anything about me, not my clothes, hair or anything.’
Nina and Conrad exchanged glances. ‘Well, you can come over here sometimes and do girly stuff,’ Nina said quickly. ‘I expect Mum’s feeling a bit low since your dad left.’
‘He left because she’s so boring,’ Amy said. ‘But she’s never done stuff with me anyway.’
‘Did you and Chloë do each other’s hair or nails?’ Conrad asked.
‘Sometimes. She had lovely blonde hair, and she didn’t bite her nails. Everything about her was perfect.’
‘It can be hard having someone close to you who’s perfect,’ Conrad said. ‘There was a boy at my school who was like that, clever, a brilliant gymnast and very good-looking. I admired him, but secretly hated him too. Did you ever feel that way about Chloë?’
‘No!’ Her retort was sharp, as if his question had been offensive.
Nina took one of Amy’s hands from the water and dried it gently. ‘Conrad means that clever, beautiful people can be annoying if you feel you can’t compete,’ she said calmly, picking up an orange stick and gently pushing back the girl’s cuticles. ‘I had a friend who was captain of the netball team, a great swimmer, very pretty and popular. I liked her a lot, but I always felt I was in the shade next to her.’
‘Well, I suppose it was a bit like that with Chloë,’ Amy confessed. ‘Her dancing, singing and everything. I wished her parents were mine too.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Conrad said. ‘The boys I take care of often tell me about aunts and uncles they wished were their parents. I had a stepfather I hated, and I used to envy some of the boys I was at boarding school with ‒ their families seemed so loving and happy. I guess it’s just the way it is. We all wish for something we haven’t got or to change what we have if we’re dissatisfied with it.’
‘My dad’s got another woman in Brighton,’ Amy said suddenly. ‘Mum says she’s a tart and only after his money.’
Nina and Conrad’s eyes met. It was as if she approved of her dad having another woman and didn’t like what her mother had said about her.
‘What do you think about it?’ Conrad asked.
‘Think about it?’ Amy looked puzzled.
‘Well, do you think your mother is right, or do you take your dad’s side? Or don’t you care either way?’
‘Mum drove him away.’ Her voice grew shriller.
Nina took her second hand from the warm water, patted it dry with the towel, then just held it. ‘Why do you think that?’ she asked gently.
‘She’s so useless. She doesn’t do anything now, not even cleaning. She just lies on her bed and cries.’
‘But she does that because she misses your dad.’
‘She’s got me!’ she burst out angrily. ‘Why doesn’t she remember that?’
‘Oh, Amy …’ Nina didn’t know what to say. It was a cry for help, but how could she and Conrad help her? This girl wanted a fully functioning mum, not a mere neighbour. ‘Maybe you need to point that out to her. Have you tried to tell her how you feel?’
‘She won’t listen. She’s too busy thinking about herself. She goes downstairs at night and cooks loads of food, like bacon and eggs. I watched her from the hall one night ‒ it was disgusting. She had about six rashers of bacon, beans and three eggs. She stuffed it in like she hadn’t eaten for weeks.’
‘Would you like me to try to get some help for you both?’ Conrad said.
Nina picked up the nail varnish and began to paint. She was out of her depth now. She knew almost every teenage girl became angry with her mother, usually because the mother tried to restrict her daughter. But this wasn’t normal teenage angst. This was full-blown disgust, loathing, and pure anger that her mother didn’t care about her.
‘I think I told you I’m a house-father at a home for boys who have been in trouble so I’m in touch with good people who could help you and your mum.’
‘I don’t want to get help for her. I want to get away from her,’ she blurted out.
Nina had finished the first coat of nail varnish and she was beginning to wish she hadn’t asked Amy here.
‘And where would you like to go?’ Conrad asked, his voice as gentle as a summer breeze.
‘To a place like where you work,’ she said.
‘I see,’ Conrad said.
Nina started on the second coat of varnish. She would leave it to Conrad now. He was the one with experience.
‘But I can’t go to one of those unless I do something bad,’ she said, and began to cry.
Having finished Amy’s nails, Nina got up and moved to sit next to her on the sofa. ‘Don’t smudge them,’ she said, put her arms around the child and drew her to her chest. ‘Some of these things you’re feeling are to do with losing your best friend, and then your dad leaving. But your poor mum, she can’t help how she feels either, and her unhappiness is stopping her thinking about anyone else. I think she needs a doctor’s help, Amy. Will you try to talk to her and persuade her that’s what she needs?’
Amy cried into Nina’s chest for a long time, huge heaving sobs that were distressing to both Nina and Conrad. When at last they began to slow, Conrad fetched a flannel, prised her away from Nina and wiped her hot, flushed face.
‘I suspect that’s the first time you’ve really cried since Chloë died,’ he said. ‘Crying can be a great healer, and maybe you’ll start to feel better about it all now.’
Amy went home about twenty minutes later, and Nina heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness that’s over,’ she said. ‘I felt I couldn’t breathe because she was so upset. Do you think she’ll be all right now?’
Conrad shook his head. ‘She’s a mass of contradictions, hating her mum and loving her, the same with her father. She’s glad he’s gone but hates it too. She’s lonely, sees no future for herself. She’s the sort of kid who could slide into drugs.’
‘What can we do to help?’
Conrad reached out and caressed her cheeks. ‘You were great with her. Keep being interested, and I’ll talk to a couple of people who might have some suggestions. We can’t do any more.’
25
Marshall received a message from his contact in the Metropolitan Police that the postcode in Sid Ferry’s satnav belonged to Ferry’s sister. She worked in a bank, had two children aged five and seven, and her husband was a teacher. An unlikely couple to be gun-running. But Marshall hadn’t believed the postcode would lead them to where the guns or ammunition were. In many ways he was relieved at the outcome, glad that the Met were taking over the investigation, and he would get some clear space to concentrate on finding Chloë’s killer.
Just a few hours ago he’d asked his team to go over every last bit of evidence once again, every witness report, any notes taken on the house-to-house search. They might find something they had missed.
Terry Parkin had not been charged with anything yet. He admitted that he had stored boxes in his lockup, but denied they were wooden ones as the witness reported. He claimed they were brown plastic, holding men’s work boots he’d bought online some time ago and thought he’d make a big profit when he sold them on. His friend Sid Ferry had taken them to a market trader in Bethnal Green to sell on his stall.
It sounded plausible. Time would tell if that story was true or false.
Meanwhile Marshall had handed over the investigation into Dee Strong’s life to his colleagues. They had found plenty of old associates who had lots of reasons to wish a long prison sentence on her. Extortion, theft, blackmail, shop-lifting, prostitution, she’d done it all. But it was hearsay, and there was no hard evidence yet that she’d paid Jason Pickering to burn her husband’s house down. Or that she’d killed Chloë.
Pickering was under surveillance: with patience and some luck he might slip up and reveal something they could arrest him for.
Gareth Price had been sober for a week, and he had found the best way to stop himself yielding to temptation was to keep busy. He’d worked on his garden, cleared the rubbish out of his shed and garage, taken clothes he no longer wore to the Salvation Army, and cleaned his house from top to bottom.
He felt quite proud of himself, but he also knew that one week dry didn’t mean he was cured. Tonight he was going over to see the Churches. When he had first bought number five, in the late eighties, he and Gloria had been good friends with Mike and Ruth.
They had comforted the Churches when their first baby was stillborn, and just three years later, when Gareth and Gloria had lost fourteen-year-old Clare in the tragic road accident, Mike and Ruth had been incredibly kind to them. Ironically it was later the same year that Chloë was born, and although Gareth and Gloria were broken by grief, they were glad to see their friends so happy with their new baby.
After Gloria had left him, and before his drinking had become serious, Gareth had gone to dinner with Mike and Ruth quite often. He’d liked to play with Chloë and enjoyed watching her progress from baby to schoolgirl. When she’d started singing and dancing, he’d always gone to watch. When he learnt she’d been killed it had brought back all the pain of losing his Clare.
He knew only too well that in the last few years he had lost his way and his old friends.
However, in the last couple of days, his new sobriety had made him remember people he had once been close to, and he felt guilty that he’d neglected them. This evening he was going to make a start on putting that right. He’d bought some flowers and made up a little basket of treats for Mike and Ruth. It included pâté, good cheese, special biscuits and a fruit cake. He didn’t expect them to invite him in. When Mike opened the door Gareth held out the flowers and basket. ‘I should’ve come before. You were both so kind to Gloria and me when Clare was killed. I wanted to support you through this terrible time you’re going through, but I couldn’t because of the drink. I’m not drinking now, and this is my long overdue apology.’
Mike took the basket and flowers and smiled. ‘Drinking or not, it’s good to see you, Gareth. Do come in.’
‘Just for a few minutes,’ Gareth said. ‘I remember only too clearly all the well-intentioned people who call and never seem to know when it’s time to leave.’
Mike smiled. ‘There have been a few. But there’s not many people who really know how we feel. You’re one who does.’
He ushered Gareth in. Ruth was on the sofa, and she got to her feet to kiss him.
‘I’m ashamed I haven’t been over before,’ he said. ‘No excuse, except the bottle, but Chloë’s death helped me to see I must give it up. A whole week so far.’
‘Mike and I can see why bereaved parents turn to drink. We have too, though we’re trying not to. But do sit down, Gareth.’
‘I can’t even ask how you are,’ he said, taking an armchair by the window. ‘I know that already. But are you managing to sleep, eat, go for a walk?’
‘We don’t do much of all three,’ Mike said, sitting down beside his wife. ‘We watch TV but don’t take anything in. Neither of us has any appetite. We live for the day when her killer is caught. Then I think we might be able to deal with it. Her funeral will be a week on Monday, and many people have said that’s always a turning point.’
‘It wasn’t with Gloria and me,’ Gareth said. ‘People behave as if it’s like a full stop, and you don’t grieve after that. But of course you do. My only piece of wisdom is that it’s like waves breaking on a beach. Some days you get just the smaller ones, but then, when you least expect it, a big one comes crashing in and knocks you off your feet.’
‘Tell me, Gareth, have you been going to AA, or just doing it alone?’
Gareth understood that Ruth’s question was to stop any further talk of grief. ‘Yes, I joined a local group. I’ve only been twice so far, but it helps to know you aren’t the only one suffering. I’ve been finding jobs to do to keep my mind off the drink.’
‘We heard John had a heart attack. Do you know how he is?’ Mike asked.
‘Maureen said he’s improving. She and Rob have gone back to work now, but she called on Rose. She said Rose seemed like a different person, kinder, not probing for gossip. But that’ll be shock. She’ll be back twice as nasty, you’ll see,’ Gareth said.
Mike and Ruth laughed. ‘We’re concerned about the Alcotts too,’ Ruth said. ‘Since their court appearance they’ve been lying low. I know they’re in there ‒ I can hear them through the open windows ‒ but I suppose they’re afraid everyone’s talking about them.’
‘Selling smuggled cigarettes isn’t my idea of a major crime,’ Mike said. ‘Not compared with murder or arson. I don’t think anyone’s horrified by cheap fags.’
‘Who knew there were so many secret things going on in the close?’ Gareth grinned. ‘Once it was just me everyone talked about. Now I’m old hat as they’re spoilt for choice.’
‘Gareth,’ said Ruth, ‘how are Trudy and Amy? Amy used to spend so much time here, she must feel so alone now without Chloë. And Roger left Trudy, we heard, so she must be in a bad way.’
‘I don’t like to stick my nose in,’ Gareth said. ‘Especially after that night when Trudy thought I’d accused Amy of being in my garden. But things are not good for them. I’ve heard Trudy crying, and shouting at Amy. Of course the poor kid wants to go out to get away from her mother’s misery, and of course that’s making Trudy even unhappier.’
‘Did I see her dressed like a Goth?’ Mike asked. ‘With that white make-up and black eyes I couldn’t be sure it was her.’
‘Yes, that was her. Who knows where the poor kid’s head is? I suppose she’s met a different crowd and just wants to fit in. Weird or not, I think it’s better than being on her own all the time.’
‘It couldn’t have happened at a worse age,’ Ruth said, her voice soft with concern. ‘At thirteen you’re standing with one foot in childhood, the other in adulthood. Amy doesn’t have any other resources to fall back on either. She doesn’t dance, sing, do sport, paint or ride horses. I don’t think there are any close relatives either, or real friends. I used to mother her a bit when she was here, and that’s been snatched away from her too.’
‘I always thought she and Chloë were ill-matched friends,’ Gareth said. ‘That’s just an idle observation. Shoot me down if you don’t agree.’
‘Sadly, you’re right,’ Mike said, and sighed. ‘Just a few weeks ago Chloë said she’d be glad when we moved as Amy was getting her down. She hung on her coat tails, wanting to be with her every day, evenings and every weekend. But she stuck with her because she felt sorry for her.’
‘I just wish I could shake Trudy and make her see she’s got to get over her husband leaving her and be a proper mother,’ Ruth said. ‘It’s never too late. She could take Amy on a little holiday, talk to her, find some common ground.’
Gareth thought it was time he changed the subject. ‘Will you move, like you planned?’
Mike and Ruth exchanged glances.
‘Eventually yes,’ Mike said. ‘It’s all become a bit poisonous here. But maybe a cottage in a Cotswold village rather than a Cheltenham townhouse. I’ll have to go back to work soon too, but I don’t want to leave Ruth.’
‘I should return to work too.’ Ruth gave a glum, half-hearted smile. ‘But maybe a return to general nursing, or even district nursing. I don’t think I could face a school again.’
Gareth got up. He felt he’d been there long enough. ‘Whatever you do, cling to one another. If only Gloria and I had done that, we might have been together still. Now I must go.’
‘We’ll take that on board,’ Mike said. ‘Thank you for your gifts and for coming to see us. We know how hard it must have been for you. But stay on the wagon, Gareth. You’re worth so much. Remember the laughs we used to have? Maybe one day we can bring that back.’
Mike hugged him, and for a moment Gareth thought he was going to collapse in tears. It was so good to feel an old friend’s affection, especially from a man who was hurting so badly.
‘Anything I can do, just ask,’ Gareth croaked, his voice breaking with emotion. ‘I can cut your grass, clean your car, whatever.’
‘Bless you,’ Ruth said softly. ‘You just stay on the wagon and we’ll feel that at least Chloë’s death achieved something.’
‘I think you must find somewhere else to live, Alfie,’ Maureen said gently. ‘We invited you to stay as it was an emergency but, as I’m sure you know, we didn’t want a permanent lodger.’
She looked down at Alfie sitting on the sofa with his feet up on a stool. He’d made himself a sandwich and coffee earlier, while she was at work, and the plate and cup were still there. His breakfast things were still on the side in the kitchen. He hadn’t even put them in the dishwasher. Worse still, she could smell cigarette smoke. He knew very well she didn’t like smoking in her house.
She and Rob were in the habit of snuggling up on the sofa to watch TV in the evenings, but Alfie had commandeered the big sofa and the television remote. He flicked from channel to channel constantly, and never asked what they wanted to watch.
He snored, and the house almost shook with it. He didn’t clean the bath after using it, and he asked what was for dinner as soon as Maureen got in. Yesterday she’d said they were having salmon, new potatoes and salad, and he said he didn’t like salmon or salad. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to go to the supermarket and buy his own food.
