Siv acted surprised. ‘Really? What’s this lie?’
‘He was late getting there to meet me. He didn’t arrive at a quarter to eight. It was after half eight. He told me he’d been delayed at work.’
She paused on the stairs, leaning against the wall. ‘I see. Why did you lie about that and back him up?’
‘When Mum had gone missing and the police were asking us questions, he said . . . he said that it would only make things complicated if your lot found out that he’d been late. He said the police twist things and it was best to keep it simple, otherwise he’d be hounded and it might not be good for business. I wish I hadn’t agreed with him now.’ There was a sob in her voice.
‘Did you believe he’d been delayed at work?’
A telling pause. ‘Of course. He often worked late.’
‘You don’t sound convinced. Do you suspect now that Pearce murdered your mother?’
There was a gasp. ‘What do you want me to say? It’s as if I’ve been married to a stranger all these years. It’s not fair, you asking me that.’
‘It’s a reasonable question, given the lies your husband has told.’
‘Yeah . . . well . . . it’s no good asking me.’
‘Let’s leave it there for now. Are you with your grandfather?’
‘Yeah. I haven’t told him about this yet. He’s gone a bit wobbly, with everything that’s happened. It’s all too weird.’
‘It’s difficult for everyone involved. I’ll come and see you soon.’
‘Do you reckon Pearce did it?’
‘I can’t comment on that, Lily. It’s an active investigation. I’ll inform you and your family as soon as there’s anything concrete to tell you.’
Chapter 19
They sat around the incident board the next morning. Patrick was flicking at his tie and eager to go first, so Siv let him. She could see he wanted to show that he was on top of things and pulling his weight in the team. She needed to check that he was.
‘Right, first of all, I got info from Trudy Kemp. She doesn’t remember Lyn mentioning a problem when she worked at Foot Heaven, but Trudy was away travelling back then. I’ve written up the names of the five pupils she took from Minster Academy to recce the outside of Steiner’s and Orford End in general. That visit was in February 2010. The pupils were all around sixteen at the time, so they’d be mid-twenties now. As far as Trudy could tell, Lyn hadn’t met any of them. I’ve checked and none of their names featured in the 2013 investigation. I rang Theo Dimas and he’d not heard of them, and said that he couldn’t recall Lyn or Lily knowing any of them. Lily didn’t attend Minster Academy.’
Siv scanned the names.
‘Lily might be familiar with any of them through other contacts,’ she said. ‘I need to see her again so I’ll ask her. What about Barry Marlin, the prospective buyer for Steiner’s?’
Patrick tapped his pen against his thigh. ‘I got hold of him. He lives in Rochester now. He confirmed that he’d been interested in the place in 2010, but withdrew his offer because he couldn’t get outline planning permission for flats. He was staying with friends in Suffolk on the night Lyn vanished — they’ve confirmed.’
Ali stood and crossed Marlin’s name through on the board, then did the same for Pearce Aston. ‘I spoke to Lou Bryant, the support worker at Glenside House. She told me that Tammy Aston has paranoid schizophrenia and she’s lived in supported accommodation at Glenside since 1999. She confirmed that Pearce Aston visits his aunt regularly. Ms Bryant went back through Tammy Aston’s care record. She’d called Aston on the afternoon of the twenty-eighth of July 2013, because Tammy was unwell and asking for him. Amazing though it might sound, he has a calming effect on her when she’s going through a bad phase. Lou Bryant was there when he visited, and confirmed the times he gave from their signing-in book.’
Siv reached for her coffee and surveyed the board. There were red dots beside the dwindling number of names with no confirmed alibi. The coffee was rich and warming but it couldn’t stop her worrying that they were getting nowhere fast. She had a picture of herself sliding backwards down Bartel’s glass mountain.
She pointed at the board. ‘Let’s recap. Lyn Dimas had been in a bad way for months after her husband left. She was highly emotional, prone to arguing with people, angry with Lily and Pearce, and was lonely. She’d discovered that her daughter was planning to marry a man who she’d had an affair with. She made an effort with her appearance before she went out that evening, ostensibly to the shop. It seems that she didn’t intend to be out for long and she didn’t take her car. So, it’s unlikely that she planned to go to Steiner’s that night, although she was familiar with the place. Also, it wouldn’t have held pleasant memories for her, given that Aston had ended their romance. She might have had sex with her killer, consensual or forced, before she was murdered, or someone she’d never had sex with might have strangled her. We can’t be sure that the murder took place at Steiner’s.’ She gulped coffee and continued. ‘We now have four names up there without confirmed alibis for the twenty-eighth of July: Jeff Downey, Theo Dimas, Trudy Kemp and Lewis Haddon. Lyn didn’t like Downey, who’d tried it on with her and she was furious with her husband and tormenting him — no love lost. However, we have no information to indicate that Downey or Dimas had ever been near Steiner’s and no forensics placing Downey there. Theo Dimas says that his fingerprints are on the wine bottle because he unpacked it at home, and I can’t see that we can challenge that statement. There’s no evidence that there was any antagonism between Trudy and her sister. Lewis Haddon had been to see Steiner’s, but he says he never entered the premises until the visit in April with Bass, and we have no connection between him and Lyn. And again, we have no forensics connecting Trudy or Lewis Haddon to Steiner’s, and none of the forensics we have matches to anyone else in our lists of names or the national database.’
Ali was leaning against the window, arms folded. ‘We can’t rule out Theo Dimas and Downey. Either of them might have killed her, and especially the husband.’
‘You’ve always fancied Dimas for it. I’m not so sure.’
‘We’ve been chasing our tails, got half the DNA in town and we’ve got sod all,’ Ali muttered.
Patrick added, ‘Hard to see where we go, guv. It’s all a dead end.’
‘Not necessarily, and I can do without negativity in the ranks.’ She smiled but her voice was sharp. This case was important to her, and not just because a woman had been murdered. Tommy Castles, Mortimer’s golden boy, had failed to find Lyn’s body. It would be satisfying to solve a crime he’d flunked, and to watch Mortimer’s face when she told him. ‘I keep coming back to the way Lyn’s body was left hanging to rot away slowly in a deserted place. Her killer realised that she probably wouldn’t be found for some time, and they needed to demean her, even in death. Almost as if killing her wasn’t revenge enough. That’s a strong emotion and very personal.’ She wondered, too, if the person who had strangled Lyn had known about her use of Steiner’s for an affair, and had left her there as a kind of punishment for her transgression. She gulped back her coffee, stood and picked up a marker pen, quickly creating a list on the board:
•Was Lyn planning to meet someone when she went out?
•How did she end up at Steiner’s?
•Do any of the names on Trudy’s list link to Lyn?
•What was the problem she’d had in her previous job?
‘These are our outstanding questions. The first two might be answered if we find anything useful from the last two. Can you deal with those names from Trudy between you? Check out where they are now, if any of them have form, where they were on the night Lyn went missing, and if there’s any crossover with her. Did any of them visit her clinic? It’s time-consuming, but see them in person if you can. Ali, tell Aston and his solicitor he’s off the hook on suspicion of murder, but he still has the charge of perverting the course of justice. I’ll chase up on Lyn’s previous employment and see Lily Aston. Any
thing else?’
Ali and Patrick stared at the board, silent. She decided to interpret it as determined focus.
‘Good. Crack on, then.’
She was back at her desk when Patrick tapped on the door.
‘Guv, can I have a word?’
‘Sure. Take a seat.’
He edged in and sat, rubbing his thumbs together. His colour was high and he had pink blotches on his neck. ‘Erm . . . it’s difficult. I’m not sure whether or not to ask you.’
She couldn’t imagine what was making him so embarrassed. Maybe he wanted a reference for another job, or to discuss promotion. ‘Don’t ask, don’t get, Patrick.’
‘Right. It’s . . . it’s about Noah. I’m really worried about him.’
‘I see.’ Her heart sank. She’d never been much good at managing other people’s personal problems. She didn’t lack empathy, but worried about how to respond in the right way. Her weird upbringing seemed to have left her without the necessary emotional codes. ‘Is Noah unwell?’
‘No — no more than usual. It’s . . .’ He fiddled with his shirt cuffs and then sat up straight. ‘I’ve been worried about him because he’s seemed down and irritable recently. I found out that he’s been paying the woman who cleans our house for sex. Her name’s Melinda Foster. I’ve no idea how much he’s been giving her, but it’s been leaving him short of money. He’s been borrowing from me now and again. Melinda took my bank card and he gave her my PIN. She drew money out of my account at an ATM, five hundred pounds. When I asked him about it, he denied it and got very chippy. I visited Melinda. She told me about the relationship and said that if I do anything about the theft, she’ll refuse to visit again and Noah will be mortified. She went on about how lonely and frustrated he gets, which is true. She described herself as a social service.’ He paused, puffing his cheeks out.
Siv spoke gently. ‘Did you tell Noah you’d talked to Melinda?’
‘Yeah. It was grim. He accused me of spying on him and refused to talk to me.’ It had been a terrible scene. Noah had gone white with anger and yelled that Patrick had no right to intrude in his personal life. He’d shut himself in his room.
People were always surprising and mysterious. Poor Patrick was scarlet now, and there was desperation in his eyes. It must have taken all his courage to speak about the matter. Siv was blindsided but tried to concentrate as he carried on.
‘I was going to talk to Ali, but then I reckoned that Noah would be even more humiliated if Ali heard about this. He’s got his pride and they have, well, a blokeish friendship. They don’t talk about personal stuff. I’m at a loss and he’s giving me the silent treatment. It’s awful because really, it’s his personal, private business and I’ve no right to be involved. I don’t want to be involved . . .’ He sighed.
His mother died soon after Noah had the stroke and he’s been left to cope with a daily, heavy burden. The exploitation angered her. Noah was a bright, engaging man and this Melinda was abusing his vulnerability. ‘Of course Noah’s entitled to a private life, but the reality is that he has a disability which renders him susceptible, and makes it difficult for him to act autonomously. It’s clear that he’s being abused. If this Melinda was trading as an honest sex worker, she wouldn’t be persuading Noah to let her steal from you. I’ve no idea what the going rates are in town, but it suggests that hers are inflated.’ That brought a weak smile from him. ‘I’d bet that Noah’s really guilty about this. He’s had to be underhand, and Melinda has manipulated him. They’ve both involved you by stealing from you. That crosses a line.’
‘Yeah. It’s such a mess and it’s like anything I say to Noah is a criticism.’
‘I get that, but Noah is an adult and he can make his own decisions. He made a bad one about your card and PIN. If he wants to be treated with respect, he has to show you some, apologise, and pay you back. Noah can’t have it both ways.’
Patrick didn’t look convinced.
‘Have you sacked Melinda as your cleaner?’
‘Yes. I told her to get lost on that front. Doesn’t stop her visiting Noah when I’m not in.’
‘Does Noah have any other friend who could talk to him about this? It would take the pressure off you.’
Patrick shook his head and then said imploringly, ‘Would you talk to him, guv?’
‘Me? Patrick, I don’t —’
‘It’s a big ask and an imposition, guv, but he really likes you and respects you. He says you don’t talk down to him. I just can’t discuss this stuff with him, even if he’d let me. It’s too embarrassing and it’s like I’m treading all over his life.’
She found it hard to imagine that anyone found her easy to talk to. She’d never been the type to encourage intimacies and she’d pulled the drawbridge up since Ed died. But she could sense Patrick’s desperation and she liked Noah.
‘Leave it with me. I’m not promising anything.’
‘Okay. Thanks, guv.’
When he’d gone, she turned back to her murder inquiry. She’d had no response to her email to the National Organisation for Podiatry and Chiropody, so she rang the London number. She mentioned her previous email, expressed her displeasure at not receiving a reply, and asked to speak to someone concerning a murder investigation. She listened to a stunned silence and then gave her phone number to a woman who promised that she’d get a call back in the next fifteen minutes.
She crossed to the window and stood contemplating the handsome museum edifice across the road and Noah’s circumstances. Life had dealt him a cruel blow, yet he usually spoke of his situation with a dry, forthright wit. He had two words tattooed in red on the backs of his hands: No on the right and Pity on the left. She recalled speaking to him earlier in the year, when he’d told her that Patrick shouldn’t have to care for him. Noah carried his own burden of guilt. She could only imagine the current tension between the brothers. She needed Patrick back on an even keel and focused on his work. That wasn’t going to happen while he was fretting about Noah. If empathy wasn’t always one of her virtues, pragmatism was.
Back at her desk, she opened her laptop where she spent five minutes scouring websites and noting phone numbers. She made a couple of calls, asked questions and took down details. Not part of her usual investigative work, but it added to her familiarity with market forces in Berminster.
Hey, Sivvi, if anyone looks at your search history, they might get the wrong idea. Ed made her jump. He’d never spoken to her at work before. How would she cope if he was going to start calling by when she was on duty?
You can’t start chatting to me when I’m at work, it’s not fair, she told him. Her phone rang and she paused before answering, but her office was silent again. She shook her head to clear it as she picked up the call. It was a Hassan Kibet from the NOPC, apologising profusely for not replying sooner.
‘Your email was forwarded to me, but we’ve recently had our first child and I’ve been somewhat distracted.’
Given his reason, it would be churlish to press the point. ‘Thanks for getting back to me promptly today. I’m investigating the murder of a Lyn Dimas. She died in 2013. She was a registered podiatrist, working in a clinic in Berminster. I believe that there was a problem in her previous workplace in Seaford, a clinic called Foot Heaven. This would be before 2004. I’d like to establish what the concerns were.’
‘How do you spell that surname?’
She told him and he asked her to hold for a minute while he searched for Lyn. She glanced outside at Ali and Patrick as they headed to the car park, Ali with his easy, loping stride, a blue wisp of cigarette smoke hovering above his head like a wraith, and Patrick bobbing up and down beside him, tapping his phone screen as he walked.
‘I’ve found Ms Dimas’s registration record. It’s been suspended and says that she’s missing.’
‘Not anymore. We’ve found her body. She was murdered.’
‘Oh my goodness. Well . . . I’ll get that amended. I can see that there was an issue about a comp
laint in 2002.’
‘Can you tell me what that entailed?’
‘I’m afraid that I can’t right now. It’s a protected file, and I’ll have to go through a senior manager.’
‘How soon can you do that?’
‘I’ll try to get access this afternoon.’
‘Make sure you do. I need this information urgently so you must come back to me today.’ She had a sudden sense that this might be important. ‘Please stress that this is a murder inquiry.’
As she left the station to see Lily Aston, she passed a muscular, sinewy man in reception, dressed in jeans, Aran jumper and walking boots. He struck her as an off-duty soldier. He was leaning sideways against the desk, chewing gum and chatting easily to a uniformed colleague. As she walked past she was aware of his insolent, assessing glance.
* * *
Ali and Patrick had talked to Karim Patel, who was an accountant and Nat Olawego, who was a househusband. They had varying degrees of recollection of the school trip to Orford End with Ms Kemp. Neither of them had heard of Lyn Dimas or any of her family and both had said that they’d never had any reason to return to Steiner’s. Olawego had stated that he would have been at home that night because it was his dad’s birthday and there was always a party. Patel had checked his electronic calendar and said that he’d been at university in Bournemouth. Paul Bison had been drowned in a boating accident in 2012.
They’d been unable to trace Tim Stafford and the reason for this became clear when they talked to a chatty Bethany James, now a florist. She was a rotund little woman with a broad smile, wearing a bright yellow apron and fingerless mittens. Her shop, Blooming Lovely, was empty and she was keen on their company, commenting that she’d only had one customer since she’d opened that morning.
‘I blame Brexit for the downturn in business. People don’t buy flowers when they’re worried if they can pay the bills, or they get those dull but cheap bunches in the supermarket. Half-dead before you get them home, most of those. I suppose a beautiful, fresh bouquet is a luxury when you’re hard up, but I’m worried about staying afloat if this carries on much longer. If I didn’t have weddings and funerals to supply, I’d be in a worse state. I call it my “match and despatch” business.’ She tied an intricate knot in a length of white ribbon and attached it to a bowl of pink-and-white amaryllis.
NEVER CAME HOME an addictive crime thriller with a twist you won't see coming (Detective Inspector Siv Drummond Book 2) Page 24
