The door should have been locked. Cassie had said to him just the other day that she’d started locking it, even though it seemed a bit silly. But it opened and he went in, calling her name.
The alarm wasn’t set. The lamps were burning in the sitting room and the television was on, showing some breakfast news programme. There was a glass of wine sitting on the coffee table and when he went through to her bedroom, his heart in his mouth, it was obvious the bed hadn’t been slept in.
He’d seen her go inside last night, before he drove off. There was no sign of any sort of struggle but the unlocked door, the abandoned glass of wine and the TV left running told a story that left him feeling sick with dismay.
The police – but then perhaps it would be best to report to his boss first. Davy took the key from the inside and locked up. He drove back down the road trying to work out how best to tell Anna, who was already looking like a pale ghost of her former self, what had happened.
DC Murray arrived at the Halliburgh police station just before nine o’clock. PC Graham was technically on the late shift but she was on stand-by if needed and judging by the activity already it was likely that she’d get a summons before very long. There had been a good snow covering overnight; so far transport was running, with only a few local difficulties, but now the snow was steadily falling with a quiet, sinister efficiency.
DCI Strang was in before her, the receptionist told her, and she went to his office.
‘Good morning, boss,’ she said brightly. ‘Was the pub all right?’
He shrugged. ‘Not quite what I had in mind, but not to worry. I’ve had good thinking time. You all right with Kate?’
Murray beamed. ‘Oh yes. They’ve this lovely house and her dad’s the old-fashioned kind – a real charmer. She’s got everything really nice – like, you know, a wee bunch of flowers in my bedroom and stuff. And then she’s a great cook.’ She realised she was on the brink of saying, ‘She’ll make someone a lovely wife,’ and stopped herself in time.
He didn’t seem much interested. ‘Fallen on your feet, then. Couple of things now. I’d a drink with Wilson after work that turned into what he obviously thought was a subtle first move in opening a negotiation to shop Hammond, all the “I’m sure he couldn’t” stuff. He said he was in a hurry and he’d buy me the second half tonight, and no doubt he’ll work round to saying, “You know I said I was sure he wouldn’t but now I’ve started thinking about it …”
‘Very keen to stress they were colleagues not friends – which is why, if you please, I’ve ended up in a dismal, dingy apology for a pub instead of the rather nice one further along the high street, because that’s where he goes with his drinking buddy DI Hammond.’
There was no mistaking the bitterness in his tone so she probably shouldn’t have laughed, but she couldn’t help it. He looked taken aback for a moment, then gave a reluctant grin. ‘Oh, laugh if you like, but if you say that worse things happen at sea, I won’t be responsible for my actions.
‘Now, I’ll give you the tape I took of the conversation to listen to – jot down any observations you have. I’m going to go and speak to Hammond – tell him there’s still a few checks I need to make on the Harper case, to give us a reason for staying on till Wilson gives me enough to persuade DCS Borthwick to act on the drugs. Meanwhile, I want you to get on to the passport office. I did a bit more research on name change regulations and that’s an area that requires disclosure of the original name. They’ve well-automated systems now with all the border checks, so it should be easy enough to find it once we get round the data protection problems. If necessary, I can pull strings to get someone to lean on them, but you never know – have a friendly chat with the people in Glasgow and they just might cut us a bit of slack. OK?’
‘Sure.’
He was frowning; then he said slowly, ‘Though I suppose it’s possible she just went on using the one she had – it would only have been seen at border checks. Supposing that was what Jason Jackson was actually looking for in her files, what he failed to find. I’ve been ready to believe what Hammond said, about him just generally looking for some dirt to dig, but maybe there’s more to it than that. He’s been told he has to report his new address, so I’ll get that from Hammond and have another little word with him. And it’s a good excuse for hanging around, anyway.’
He stood up and just at that moment the phone rang. He reached across to pick it up. ‘Strang here,’ he said.
Then Murray watched him as his face turned pale.
At Highfield House the gates swung open as DCI Strang’s car approached. There was another car and a badged 4x4 there already and as Strang and DC Murray reached the front door it was opened by PS Johnston.
‘DI Hammond and DS Wilson are up with the family, sir. Mum’s in a bit of a state.’
‘Natural enough,’ Strang said grimly. ‘Upstairs, did you say?’
‘That’s right, sir. I’ll take you up.’
Knocking the snow off their shoes they followed him upstairs to the great white room that was bathed in a sort of eerie brightness. With the snow settling on the huge windows and blotting out the view, it looked as if they were a fourth wall imprisoning the occupants in icy misery.
As they came in Murray hung back. There was a man in an oilskin jacket standing near the back wall, twisting his hat in his hand and looking as if he wanted the floor to open and swallow him and she went to join him. He gave her a despairing look and she nodded to him with a straight-lipped smile.
Strang had gone forward to where Anna Harper was sitting on one of the sofas near the blank windows. She was ashen-faced, with tears on her cheeks that she hardly seemed to notice. Sitting beside her like a guardian dragon, Marta Morelli was grey and gaunt, but tearless, and she was ranting at Hammond and Wilson who were standing with their backs to the dead fire, doggedly studying their feet. She broke off as Strang appeared and glared at him.
Strang said, ‘Ms Harper, I’m very sorry indeed that this should have happened.’
Anna nodded dumbly, but Marta turned on him. ‘Sorry! Sorry is no good! We told you we were in danger, and you did nothing, nothing! None of you did anything! What has happened to Cassie?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t know, as yet,’ Strang said quietly. ‘I’m not clear about the circumstances.’
Hammond cleared his throat. ‘Davy Armstrong here called us to say she wasn’t there when he went to pick her up this morning. He said it looked as if she’d been sitting with a glass of wine watching the TV last night and left the house unexpectedly.’
Strang glanced towards him. ‘Anything out of place, Mr Armstrong?’
Davy shook his head. ‘Just – she wasn’t there.’
‘No footprints, car tracks?’
‘No. It was snowing all night.’
‘He’s given me the key and I’ve sent a car up there now,’ Hammond said. ‘I was going to tell the ladies we’d go and check whether she’s got her phone with her, her handbag, that sort of thing. There’s no proof as yet that she didn’t leave of her own accord.’
The two women stared at him with what Murray could recognise as blank disbelief. Marta hissed, ‘Go, then, stupid man! You stay here.’ She stabbed her finger at Strang and then, noticing Murray, added, ‘And her. She said you would help us.’
Hammond and Wilson were making their way to the door with unseemly haste. Davy Armstrong cast a piteous look at Murray and she murmured, ‘I’d just go if I were you,’ as she went forward.
Murray joined Strang and they sat down opposite the two women without waiting to be asked. Marta looked annoyed, Murray thought. She’d been expecting them to stand there like naughty children to be harangued.
With tightened lips Marta said, ‘So, now you tell us what you are going to do.’
‘No, Ms Morelli,’ Strang said. ‘I’m going to ask you some questions, Ms Harper. Have you spoken to your daughter on the phone since last night?’
Anna had been sitting like a statue, her ha
nds folded in her lap, her eyes wide and tragic. Now she fixed them on his face. ‘We … we tried this morning, after Davy came. It was just on voicemail. I … I haven’t spoken to her for a day or two.’
‘You don’t know if she might have had plans to go out?’
Marta cut in. ‘At night, in the snow? What stupidness is this?’
Anna said wearily, ‘Marta, please …’ She put a hand on Marta’s arm and she subsided. ‘Inspector, I know that isn’t the answer and I think you know too. Something has happened to Cassie. You know I was afraid of this—’
‘Yes, Ms Harper, I know. And you know that I said there was something you weren’t telling me – something you are both deliberately concealing.’
Murray, watching intently, saw that the women didn’t look at each other. They so obviously didn’t look at each other that it was screamingly obvious that they wanted to.
Neither of them spoke and Strang went on, ‘As I said, we have to bear in mind that there has been no sign of a struggle that would suggest violence was involved, so there may be an innocent explanation. We will naturally proceed with the standard investigations we do in circumstances like this, but these will be slow and difficult with so little to go on.
‘I’m going to ask you again, Ms Harper. Your daughter, for whatever reason, is missing. What can you tell me that would give us a pointer to where to look for her?’
Anna had been sitting so still that both Murray and Strang jumped when she leapt to her feet and screamed, ‘I don’t know! I don’t know who has done this! If I did, do you really think I wouldn’t tell you?’ She ran out of the room.
Marta got up, holding her arms wide in a demonstration of outrage. ‘Now you see what you have done? She has had enough already, and you bully her!’
‘No, Ms Morelli, I did not. I asked her a simple question and I will ask you the same. If you are genuinely worried about the welfare of your friend and her daughter, tell me what it is that you both know and I do not.’
For a moment she held the pose but suddenly her arms fell to her sides and her shoulders slumped, as if she had no more strength to go on fighting. ‘I can’t help you. Just – the man who came in this house – you let him go. You arrest him again, perhaps, and he tells you why he did it. Then you will know.’
Strang sighed. ‘Just one more question – can you tell me if Anna Harper is a pen name?’
Marta went very still. Then she said flatly, ‘No. It is her real name.’
Murray didn’t believe her and she could see that Strang didn’t either. His frustration was obvious, but he said only, ‘Thank you, Ms Morelli. I have noted what you said and we’ll leave it there for the moment. Perhaps you could talk to Ms Harper and explain to her that I will be coming back to ask the same questions again unless we find her daughter. I’ll be arranging for your phone line to be tapped but if anyone does phone please contact me direct. Ms Harper has the number and I will be arranging for the panic button that links to the police station to have another link to my own phone, day or night.’
Marta Morelli came downstairs and listened. Where was Anna? Had she gone up to her bedroom? She heard the sound of faint sobs coming from the passage below the staircase and went along to the study.
Her friend was crumpled in a chair, her face buried in a cushion, and Marta perched on the arm, patting her back. ‘Hush, cara, she may still be all right. He may be using this to tell us now what he wants – money, some sort of reparation, acknowledgement. Even if it hurts The Brand—’
Anna sat up, her face blotchy and swollen. ‘The Brand! she cried wildly. ‘Sod the bloody Brand. What are we to do now, Marta? Are the police still here?’
‘No, they have gone for now.’ Marta went across to slump in her chair. ‘But he is going to come back, to ask us again.’ She added, with heavy emphasis, ‘He wanted to know if Anna Harper was your real name.’
‘Marta! What did you say?’
‘I said it was, of course. But whether he believed me …’ She shrugged.
Anna gave another sob. ‘But we can’t help him! We don’t know ourselves who this is. What we can tell him wouldn’t take him any closer. Oh, he could dig into our lives, snare us in the law and I still wouldn’t have my daughter back. He wouldn’t find the murderer who killed Felix and tried to kill Cassie before.’
Grasping at straws, Marta said. ‘There is to be a tap on our phone. If he wants money, they can trace where it comes from.’
‘But is it money he wants? Surely he would have demanded it, before now.’ She put her hand to her head. ‘I think he is going to kill her. We will get another note then – another “payback time”. And I think I would die myself.’ She paused for a long moment, then she said slowly, ‘Marta, do you think it is time we told the police everything? It is bad, but surely not so bad …’
Marta looked at her. She hadn’t cried earlier; she began to cry now with great racking sobs. She’d never cried before in front of Anna, though God knew sometimes she’d wanted to.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ she wept. ‘Oh, if it would only be me, I would tell them. I always thought to pay for my sins. But they will never believe it was not you too.’
Anna was staring at her. ‘Marta, you’re frightening me! What are you talking about?’
She bowed her head, covering her face with her hands. ‘I never told you what I did. And I don’t know if you can forgive me.’
And then she confessed.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DCI Strang slammed the door with vigour as he got back into the car, then swore violently, bringing his clenched fists down on the steering wheel in an agony of frustration. Murray looked at him in surprise. She’d never known him react like that before.
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘sorry. But this is driving me mad. I can’t stand feeling helpless. That woman really cares about her daughter – she’s not faking it. Yet there the two of them are, taking refuge in denying that they know who did it. Clearly they don’t believe that the big secret – whatever it is – could lead us to him. OK, that may well be true, but they’ve no idea of our capacity for investigation, if they’d give us somewhere to start. And because they won’t trust us, we can only go through the motions of indiscriminate questioning while God knows what is happening to poor, nice Cassie Trentham, and we’re just sitting round waiting for the next disaster to happen. And watch this space.’
She hardly knew what to say. He was always so self-controlled that it was a shock to hear such raw anger in his voice. ‘I suppose we just go on doing the legwork. Something usually comes to the surface when you dig.’
Strang gave a deep sigh. ‘You’re right, of course. OK, let’s head for the cottage. I feel sure Hammond will have covered the bases – whatever else, he’s an effective operator – and after that we can head round to the Foundation and see what they have to say for themselves. Her very self-important deputy isn’t too fond of her, for a start, and there may be other undercurrents we don’t know about yet.’
Murray was relieved to hear him sounding a little more positive. ‘Hope we can get up there all right. The snow’s really beginning to lie now.’
But as they reached the side road, they could see that the plough had been along recently, opening a single lane through the piles it had thrown up on either side. ‘You can’t fault him on efficiency,’ Strang said. ‘With the current situation, it may be just as well the drug squad didn’t dash in and suspend him.’
The snowplough had gone only a short distance beyond Burnside and the cars had parked in the space its turning circle had created. Murray gave an anxious look behind her as Strang manoeuvred the car to face downhill again.
‘It’s filling up again already,’ she said. ‘It’ll be a real problem if there’s a wind.’
‘Pity that’s the forecast, then.’
He stepped out of the car and walked across. Murray, on the nearside, had to climb out into a snowdrift that came up to her knees and followed him, squelching in her sodden soc
ks and ankle boots, mentally snarling as she brushed off her trousers as best she could. She hadn’t thought to bring wellingtons. Didn’t have any, in fact. You didn’t need them in the city. Good place to be, the city.
At least they’d cleared the path. Hammond opened the door for them and they went in, looking round at the scene he had described earlier. The TV had been switched off, but the glass of wine was still sitting on the coffee table.
‘They’re checking the house now, sir, but so far there’s nothing to suggest any sort of trouble,’ he said. ‘But she didn’t take her handbag or her phone. We’ve got them bagged up to take in for examination.’
Strang glanced round about. ‘Looks as if there’s good security and there’s a peephole in the door. She must have seen who it was before she opened it. Someone she knew, then – she’d been warned to be careful.’
‘Could even have gone with them of her own accord,’ Hammond suggested. ‘We don’t necessarily know she was snatched.’
‘Did she take a coat?’
Hammond looked put out, Murray thought, at not having thought of that. As he said defensively, ‘Well, ladies have a lot of coats,’ she went across to a row of pegs on the wall beside the door. There was a thick weatherproof jacket hanging there; the surface was dry but when she ran her hands over it, it was still damp underneath the sleeves.
‘I guess if she had taken a coat, it would have been this one,’ she said, and earned herself an approving nod from Strang and a cold look from the inspector.
DS Wilson appeared, carrying a wine bottle in a plastic bag. ‘This was in the fridge, sir,’ he said to Strang.
It was about half full and it was sealed with a silly, novelty stopper – a pair of stiletto heels. Murray felt a lump in her throat; Cassie, who loved pretty shoes and got jokey presents from her friends – where was she now?
The two uniforms who had been checking the rest of the house came back in, shaking their heads. The small room was getting crowded and Strang said, ‘Right. We’ll head off to the Foundation now.’
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