The Secret Admirer: An absolutely gripping crime thriller (Detective Natalie Ward Book 6)

by Carol Wyer

  ‘My friend Fran lives in the same house as her. I can’t get my head around it. I only saw Gemma yesterday.’

  ‘We were hoping you might be able to tell us a bit more about her. What’s your name?’ Natalie asked.

  ‘Me? I’m Rhiannon Williams. I live here with three others but one of them, Libby, is away at the moment, in Cornwall. She takes geology, see? And she’s on a field trip until next Wednesday, and I don’t suppose she’s heard about Gemma yet.’ Her voice rattled like an express train.

  ‘How well did you know Gemma?’

  Her stencilled eyebrows pulled together. ‘Fran shared the house with her and I used to go around a fair bit, cos Fran and I are best friends, and we spend a lot of time together there. Their house is much nicer than this one, see? I prefer to go around there, rather than Fran come here because they have nicer stuff in it and their sitting room is friendlier.’

  ‘Did you talk to her much?’

  ‘I talked to her. You can’t exactly ignore somebody if they’re sitting watching the same programme as you, can you? But I wouldn’t say we talked about anything serious. It was all about whatever we were watching or university stuff.’

  ‘You weren’t friends as such?’

  The girl’s pale amber eyes screwed up and she shrugged. ‘Not like I am with Fran. She was really nice but she was studying different languages than me and we weren’t in any of the same lectures or classes. Apart from when I bumped into her at the house, I didn’t really get many opportunities to chat to her, alone like.’

  There it was again. That same word: nice. ‘Fran didn’t discuss her with you? Mention seeing her with anyone – a boyfriend maybe?’

  She blinked as she thought, thick fake eyelashes that swept up and down like tiny brooms. ‘Oh, yes, Gemma went out with Ryan for a short while but Fran and I didn’t talk about her. Why would we? I barely knew her and Fran didn’t exactly hang about with her. Gemma was usually with her mother.’ Rhiannon’s lip curled slightly after she spoke. For Natalie, it was a recognisable sign of disgust. The girl was not one of Sasha’s fans.

  ‘You speak to Sasha at all?’

  ‘Uh-huh. She tried to get in with us, if you get my meaning. She’s one of those mums who copies their kid, which is pretty sad, isn’t it? I mean, if my mum started wearing the same clothes as me, I’d go off on one at her. It was a bit awkward sometimes.’

  ‘Can you explain?’

  She paused to collect her thoughts then the words tumbled out. ‘It’s always the same when you talk to adults, or other people’s parents. They don’t know what to say to you so they stick to stuff like: “What are you studying? Are you going to travel as part of your course?” They pretend to be really interested in you, when really they’re not, but they want their kids to think they are. Gemma’s mother’s like that, sort of OTT about everything. For instance, Fran told Sasha she was thinking of applying to the Foreign Office to be an interpreter, and Sasha nearly fainted with excitement. She sat with her mouth open like Fran was some sort of celebrity.’

  ‘But Gemma was close to her mum.’

  Rhiannon’s lips twitched again. ‘Yes, she was. That was strange too. My mum and I argue all the time. They were like best mates.’ She stared directly at Natalie and shook her head. ‘It’s horrible, though, what’s happened to her. Really horrible.’

  ‘What about Hattie, how did she get on with Gemma?’

  ‘Good, I think. Hattie’s very… hippy. She loves everyone.’

  ‘Who else lives here with you?’

  ‘William, Stuart and Libby.’

  ‘Are any of them in?’

  ‘The boys might be, but like I said, Libby’s away on a field trip in Cornwall and won’t be back until mid-week.’

  ‘When did she go?’

  ‘Last Wednesday.’

  Natalie pulled out the note she’d retrieved from Gemma’s diary. ‘I don’t suppose you know anything about this, do you?’ she asked.

  Rhiannon read it through and looked blankly at Natalie. ‘No. I haven’t seen it before.’

  ‘And Gemma never mentioned having an admirer to you?’

  ‘Never. I expect she had plenty of admirers though. She was very pretty.’

  Natalie asked if they could speak to the young men who’d been out with Ryan on the pub crawl, and Rhiannon raced upstairs to fetch them. The first to descend was a skinny youth, over six feet tall and dressed in slippers, fleece loungewear and a patterned beanie hat. He rubbed at the stubble on his face and told them he was called Stuart. His breath smelt of alcohol and his eyes were bleary.

  ‘We’re following up on a few details regarding the death of Gemma Barnes. Did you know her?’

  ‘Only to say hello to. We saw Lennox last night and he told us she’d been in an acid attack and died. Fucking awful.’

  ‘What time was that?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue.’

  ‘Where did he meet you?’

  ‘Might have been the Three Kings. Yeah, I think it was. It was late by then, but the Three Kings stays open until midnight on Fridays.’ He’d confirmed what they’d been told: Lennox had gone to the Three Kings pub.

  ‘Ryan says you were with him last night.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘All night?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  ‘Can you tell us your exact movements?’

  The boy winced as if the effort was too great, and with eyes screwed up he said, ‘We met in the students’ union bar about half past six, had a couple of pints, then headed into town and hit a few pubs. Started at the White Hart.’

  Upstairs Rhiannon’s voice yelled, ‘Will! Wake up. Police!’ and there was further banging as she attempted to rouse the boy from his bed.

  ‘Can you tell us exactly where you went?’ asked Natalie.

  The boy rubbed at his chin as he thought. ‘White Hart… Stolen Pig… Swan and then… Three Kings.’

  Ian wrote down the names of all the pubs. Above them, floorboards squeaked loudly and footsteps thudded across the ceiling. There was a quick exchange of words, followed by the sound of somebody descending the wooden stairs, and a barelegged youth with curly black hair and dressed in a short blue dressing gown appeared in the hallway. Stuart turned to him and said, ‘Will, the police are trying to sort out where we all were last night. Where did we go after the Three Kings?’

  ‘Tumbledown Dick.’

  ‘Oh, yes. That’s it.’

  ‘William Ingles?’ asked Natalie. He was one of the names on the list.

  ‘That’s me. We were together all night – me, Stuart, Ryan… and Lennox, but he didn’t join us until later. We got an Uber home at about one-ish.’ William hesitated briefly then asked, ‘What exactly happened to Gemma? Lennox told us somebody threw acid in her face and she died.’

  ‘That’s correct,’ said Natalie. The boy grimaced. ‘Did you know her well?’

  ‘Only vaguely. She and Ryan were getting it on for a while, but she never came out with us. He used to speak about her all the time, but it was mostly about what a babe she was and how great their relationship was. He was majorly cut up last night when he found out about what had happened to her. He went straight home.’

  ‘Did he go out with her for long?’

  ‘They were together for a while at the start of this term, till she mugged him off.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Don’t really know for certain, but Ryan was definitely pissed off about it for a while. He skived a few lectures and wouldn’t even come out for a drink.’ He turned to Stuart for confirmation, who nodded in agreement.

  ‘Stuart?’ Natalie said. The boy wasn’t much more forthcoming.

  ‘He was into her and she wasn’t into him. That’s all I know. Ryan isn’t big on talking about feelings and shit like that.’

  She reached again for the note and showed it to them. ‘Do either of you recognise this?’

  Stuart shook his head.

  ‘William?’
/>   ‘Never seen it before.’

  ‘Neither of you wrote this?’

  Stuart snorted slightly. ‘No way! I didn’t fancy Gemma. I’ve already got a girlfriend, Kaitlin. She’s a student here. Gemma wasn’t my type.’

  ‘Mine neither,’ said William, quickly. ‘I’m seeing somebody too. She’s back home but we’ve been together since I left for uni.’

  ‘Do you think Ryan might have sent it?’

  Stuart’s brow lowered. ‘Absolutely not. That doesn’t sound like him at all.’

  William agreed. ‘He wouldn’t write anything like that. He says what he thinks and he’s not at all shy.’

  She put the letter away again. They’d established Ryan’s whereabouts, and regardless of what had happened between him and Gemma, if he’d been with the boys at the time of the attack, he had a cast-iron alibi – although Natalie was also aware he could have been responsible and involved somebody else to throw the acid. Nothing could be discounted at this stage. They’d finished here.

  ‘I’ll ring around the pubs and see if they have any CCTV footage that might confirm Ryan definitely was on the pub crawl,’ said Ian as they climbed back into the squad car.

  Natalie nodded. She was in favour of thoroughly checking every detail, and to that end she wanted to make sure Hattie hadn’t left the house after her chat in the kitchen with Gemma. ‘We’ll try Chancer’s Bar next. And I’d like to get hold of Hattie. Have you got contact details for her?’

  ‘I put them in the file.’

  She twisted around, pulled the manila folder from the back seat and hunted for what she needed. Traffic into town was building with shoppers heading towards the retail park, and they had to traverse the centre to reach the bar. Natalie dialled the number. It went to answerphone.

  ‘Oh, bugger!’ she said with a lengthy sigh. She could have done with getting hold of Hattie and having a quick chat without adding it to the to-do pile.

  ‘Maybe she’s gone to visit her dad.’

  ‘I’m not chasing about after her. We’ll get hold of her later.’ She picked up the communications unit handset to contact Murray.

  ‘Receiving,’ he said.

  ‘Anything to report?’

  ‘Nothing yet.’

  ‘While you’re talking to students, find out what you can about Hattie Caldwell. See if she’s friendly with any other girls and if she and Gemma were close.’

  ‘Will do.’

  She hung up and eased back against the seat.

  A vintage, bright-orange Citroen beer truck emblazoned with the bar’s name was parked on the forecourt of the former garage turned bar. Ian drew up behind a drinks lorry that was being offloaded and they followed the delivery driver into the establishment, where they were met with an explosion of rainbow colours against brick walls, the result of a wild paint-throwing party or uncontrollable toddlers let loose with cans of paint. The effect was made worse by the bright sunlight streaming through the skylights, which made the colours all the more garish and the furniture look cheap and tacky. Natalie’s gaze fell upon oil drums now upcycled into stools that stood in front of the bar – another nod to the place’s heritage – and to the man who squatted on one, hunched over a copy of the Sun.

  ‘Morning, sir. Do you own this place?’

  The man’s head snapped up and he pushed back his reading glasses on top of his wiry black hair. The paper remained open at the sporting news for the day. ‘Er, no. I only work here.’

  ‘And what’s your name?’ Natalie asked.

  ‘Joe Yanick.’

  ‘We’re here regarding the death of one of the bar’s employees, Gemma Barnes.’

  ‘She’s dead?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  The man dragged his wide hand across both cheeks and it crackled over his bristled chin; a scraping sound like sandpaper gently rubbing a surface. ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘She was involved in an attack.’

  ‘A knife attack?’

  ‘Acid.’

  His face contorted and he sucked in air through clenched teeth, then said, ‘Oh my God! Her face?’

  ‘Yes.’

  This time he released the air, his teeth still clenched. ‘Poor… poor Gemma… but why? Everyone liked her. Why would somebody do that?’

  ‘That’s why we’re here – to try and find out as much as we can to help us find the person responsible. Can you recall seeing anyone hanging about when she was on duty, maybe talking to her, showing more interest in her than any of the other bar staff?’

  ‘She got attention all the time – not from one person, from lots of people. Some of the men, and the ladies, only come here to be served by her and Sasha. Naturals, both of them. They made more tips on a Saturday than the rest of us made in a week.’

  ‘Did they pool their tips?’ Natalie asked, wondering if their popularity might be a reason for somebody to be jealous of them.

  He made a sucking noise through his teeth and shook his head as he processed once more what he’d learnt only a moment ago. ‘All the money goes into the gratuity jar, and each week we divide the contents among us all. Yes, they shared their tips.’

  ‘Did you talk to Gemma much?’

  ‘If we had a quiet few minutes, but that was rare. This place is pretty heaving weekends, and that’s when she usually worked.’

  ‘How would you describe her?’

  ‘Easy-going and likeable. She always asked about my family too. Nice that. Not everyone is interested in you. She and Sasha are people’s people, you know what I mean? They’re interested in everyone and listen, not talk over them all the time like some people do.’

  ‘She didn’t mention having an admirer, did she?’

  ‘She didn’t talk about anyone in particular, but like I said, she got plenty of attention.’

  ‘You don’t recognise this note?’

  He squinted at it. ‘Sorry, never seen it before.’

  ‘When did you last see Gemma?’

  ‘A fortnight ago, before I went on holiday. I only got back last night.’

  ‘What time did your flight land?’

  ‘Twenty past nine. Got home close to eleven. Luggage took forever to come through.’

  There was no way this man could have been behind the attack, and judging by the tone that had crept into his voice, he wouldn’t have wished her any harm.

  ‘Would you say, then, that Gemma got along with everyone here?’

  ‘I most definitely would. Lovely girl.’

  ‘And you didn’t notice anybody acting strangely in her presence – customers or staff?’ Natalie asked again.

  He nodded to himself as if trying hard to shake his thoughts into order. ‘There was one lad. Big guy with blond hair and a waxy, smooth face. He’s been coming in a fair bit recently.’

  The person sounded like Ryan. Natalie spoke up. ‘Did he have an accent?’

  ‘Yes, there was an accent but I don’t know what it was. I’m no good with accents.’

  Ian hunted through the file he’d brought along of all the housemates’ details and passed over the picture of the young man in question.

  ‘That’s the fella,’ said Joe.

  ‘Did he hassle Gemma?’ asked Natalie.

  ‘Oh, no, he usually sat over there,’ he said, pointing at a group of seats against the wall, which was adorned with metal posters of old adverts for various beers. ‘He drank on his own, but he’d stare at her a lot. I noticed him doing it a few times while I was out there collecting glasses.’

  ‘Did she complain about him?’

  ‘To be honest, I don’t think she was aware of it happening. She was always chatting to customers or pouring them drinks. I probably wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been glass-collecting at the time – and he did have a weird face. Like a puppet.’

  ‘Can you recall when you last saw him?’

  ‘Again, it was soon before I went away… maybe the day before although I can’t be sure. I asked if he’d finished with his
empty glass and he passed me it without a word and carried on sitting there, like he was waiting for somebody.’ It was certainly suspicious behaviour and needed investigating even if Ryan had an alibi for the time of the attack on Gemma.

  ‘Did anyone join him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is there anything else you can think of that might help us?’

  He shook his head. ‘Sorry.’

  The delivery driver pushed another handcart piled with crates across the tiled floor, causing the glass bottles to perform a tinkling, jangling symphony that reached a full-blown clattering crescendo by an open door behind the bar, before they disappeared tunelessly into the void beyond.

  Natalie waited for the noise to cease before asking, ‘Are there any other staff members here today?’

  ‘They’ll be in later, before opening time. We don’t open until six. I’m only here to keep an eye on the deliveries.’

  ‘We’d like to speak to everyone who works here. Do you have a list of employees’ details?’

  ‘I don’t have that information. You need to ask the owner, Phil Chancer. He’s in Spain at the minute but he’ll still be able to help you out.’ He lifted an old Nokia, screen smeared with thumbprints. A child’s face appeared and Natalie’s heart jumped in her chest. But it wasn’t Leigh she saw on the screensaver. This girl was about thirteen, her dark hair plaited in cornrows and a hint of a smile on her heart-shaped face as if she knew a secret. Natalie didn’t ask but it was most likely the man’s daughter. The face vanished and Joe hunted for his boss’s contact details, reading them out for Ian, who jotted them down.

  Natalie pulled out a business card, which she slid across the bar. ‘Thank you for your time, and if you can think of anything else, please contact us.’