by Carla Kovach
Briggs took a step forward. ‘What did Bernard say?’
Gina handed a pile of reports to Jacob who took one and passed the rest around the room. ‘All the information we have so far is collated in this report. We’ve also updated the system with our finds so far. Time of death. Our witness, Vicky Calder, said she saw a man moving the body not long after twelve thirty this morning. The Ashmores’ babysitter, Tiffany Gall, saw Jade Ashmore leaving their summerhouse just before Noah Ashmore arrived home. She confirmed that this was between midnight and twelve fifteen. Until the post-mortem results tell us any different, we are working on the knowledge that Jade Ashmore was killed between midnight and twelve thirty.’
Everyone was flicking through the notes Gina had prepared. She pulled a strand of hair from the side of her mouth and tucked it behind her ears. ‘After attending the scene, it looks clear that Jade had been attacked at the back of Gilmore Close and dragged a few feet before being interrupted by our witness. This is where she died. There is no evidence to show that she had been killed somewhere else and then moved. Our killer wouldn’t have had time for that.’ She paused. ‘A small chunk of her hair had been cut away as you can see.’ She pointed to the photos on the board. ‘Also, one of her fingernails was missing. It seems possible that the killer could have removed it, maybe as a trophy, along with the hair. Maybe it was ceremonial, just a thought.’
Jacob leaned forward and placed both feet on the floor. ‘Whoever did this must have been in quite a state looking at the injuries.’
‘Bernard’s first instincts suggest that the murder weapon is something flat-ended. If you look at the edges of the wound, you can see an imprint on the one side of her forehead.’
The right side of Jade’s face had been pounded. The flesh on her cheek hanging off, exposing bone and muscle. Gina swallowed and turned away from the photo. She’d had a doughnut for breakfast at the station and skipped lunch. The feeling of emptiness in her stomach combined with the photos filling the board were making the doughnut repeat on her. She undid her top button, hoping to alleviate her indigestion. ‘Looking at the blood spatter, we can see a tiny stream along the fence that looks to have come from her broken nose. She must have been leaning up slightly. After that, nothing, apart from what was pooled around her. It had rained a little before the tent was erected so some of the blood had started to run. We found no murder weapon at the scene, no footprints. One thing we could tell was that the spatter wasn’t consistent with the scale of her injuries. It would have been messy. The perpetrator must have covered her up during the attack. What with? We have no idea at the moment. Did they come specifically for Jade Ashmore or was Jade Ashmore simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?’
Paula Wyre flicked over to the next page in the report. ‘Her injuries are brutal, guv.’
Gina’s gaze followed the board until she stopped at the photo that Noah Ashmore had given to her. A photo of Jade as she was before. Her shoulder-length mousy brown hair framed a heart-shaped face, petite nose and large hazel-coloured eyes. ‘We have several witnesses. I’ve already mentioned Vicky Calder who was out walking her dog and the babysitter, Tiffany Gall. But there are more. Seventy-eight-year-old Colin Wray. He is the Ashmores’ neighbour and, from the statements, he is known as a bit of a creep.’
Jacob dropped his pen on the table. ‘He’s definitely a bit creepy, guv.’
‘We interviewed him, my notes are there to read. Tiffany admitted she had a crush on Noah Ashmore and a short while ago, she kissed him in his garden. She also saw Colin watching them. Colin also admitted that he’d watched Jade Ashmore in her summerhouse with a man just before she was murdered. I’ll come onto that in a minute. Colin has no alibi and lives alone. Did we find out anything further about Colin Wray?’
Jacob nodded and opened his notebook. ‘I checked to see if he had a record and he does. Minor assaults on younger women involving inappropriate touching, antisocial behaviour – trying to look through his neighbours’ windows, etcetera, and they were all women. He even has a conviction for stealing underwear from a washing line which sounds like such a cliché, I know. This happened where he last lived and was probably why he moved.’
The afternoon sun shone between the branches of the tree in the car park, drowning the board in light. Gina walked over to the window and pulled the blind. ‘Smith, did any of the neighbours see anything? I know you coordinated the door to door at both locations.’
He yawned and wiped the sleep from his eyes. ‘The team knocked on doors all morning but no one saw a thing.’
‘So, nothing new to go on there. Okay, what we do know is that Jade and Noah Ashmore were attending a party on the evening of the fifth of May at 27 Houston Close. There were other people at the party and the host’s name was Dawn Brown. We had Paula take an initial statement from her, which we will follow up on soon. Can you give us a rundown?’
Wyre nodded as she crossed her legs. ‘She can’t remember when Jade left the party or who with as they’d all had a few drinks. She remembered there being a bit of tension between Noah and Jade, and she remembers him walking out with Aimee, which corroborates Noah Ashmore’s version of events. She also gave us a list of first names. That list contained the name of a man called Rhys, who attended with his partner, a woman called Aimee.’
Gina smiled. It seemed to be coming together, they just had to find out who Rhys was and where he lived. She knew from what Colin had said that Rhys was local. ‘That at least ties up with what Colin Wray said to us. He said he recognised the man coming out of Jade’s summerhouse and that he knew him to be called Rhys.’
Flipping over a few pages in her notebook, Wyre studied what she’d written and nodded. ‘Dawn Brown also seemed very vague when it came to her guests. She doesn’t seem to know them that well, saying they all lived close by and she just wanted to get to know some of the locals better. She didn’t even know their surnames or where they lived. She said she just met them out and about, at the shops or on the High Street, and had asked them over on that date. In fact, she wasn’t much help.’
‘Now that sounds weird to me already. We need follow-ups on all the attendees. We need to locate this Rhys. I know you’ve made a start, Wyre, but can I leave that one with you? As soon as you have anything, let me know. I’ll be paying Dawn a visit too. O’Connor, will you assist Wyre?’
Gina’s phone beeped again. Thinking it might be Bernard with further information, she snatched it out of her pocket. Her face began to redden as she placed it on the table face down. Chatter began to fill the room as each of the detectives and officers prepared for the afternoon ahead.
Briggs walked over, smiling as he stood beside her. She returned his smile as he passed her a piece of paper. ‘Here you go. I’ve prepared the press release and I’ll pass it to Annie. We really need to put out an appeal for witnesses. Apart from that, Harte, you’re the Senior Investigating Officer. Keep me updated. Call me if you need anything.’ All that remained was the smell of his musky aftershave, the one she’d always loved. After all that had happened, she still thought about him, a lot. She doubted she’d ever stop. She grabbed her phone and replied to her messages.
Sorry Rex, I can’t meet for a drink tonight. Have a lovely time though! Gina.
He’d been a mistake, not like the mistake she made with Briggs, a real mistake. Some mistakes were not made to regret but Rex was. A message pinged back. He wasn’t getting the hint.
O’Connor looked away from his screen and grinned. ‘The council have come up trumps. We have an address for one of our party-going couples.’
Nine
Diane pulled at the creaky wooden gate, trying to force it closed with her stiff fingers. Pain shot through her knees, almost causing her leg to buckle. That old rotten gate was as creaky as she was.
The wood had warped over the years and seasons, and she’d never had it fixed, never had the money or the skill required. Not that it mattered. She’d always felt safe in her little house at the end
of a terrace in such a quiet area. She gasped as she reached the back door and turned the key in the lock, pushing the shopping through first.
She dropped the bags on the kitchen table. One from the food bank and one full of all the reductions she could find at the supermarket. Turning up in the afternoon sometimes paid off and today it did. A variety of vegetables for less than a pound in total. With the tin of corned beef and stock cubes from the food bank, a stew was on the menu for later. As she grabbed the fresh loaf, laden with price-reduction stickers, a bright envelope caught her eye.
The post had already been delivered before she’d left for the shops. It had to be a hand delivery. The pink envelope lay on the doormat. It wasn’t her birthday so who would send her a card? At least it looked like it could be a card. She hobbled along the hallway and flinched as she kneeled. The latest flare up of arthritis had been one of her worst.
The envelope wasn’t even sealed. She pulled out a pink card. On the front, the large letters wished someone a happy birthday, but it wasn’t her. If she found out who it belonged to, maybe she could post it to them. It was probably meant for one of her neighbours, someone had obviously posted it through the wrong letterbox.
She gently opened it, hoping to find out who it belonged to. As she read the cut out letters, she gasped. Staggering back into the kitchen, she switched on the main light. ‘It can’t be,’ she whispered under her breath as she lifted up the fingernail from the fold of the card. Seven years ago, that was when she last saw her friend. Since then, her friend had been nothing but a memory, silent in all ways. There had been no calls, no letters, no visits. She’d simply vanished.
There was a knock at the front door. Her heart slammed against her chest and she gasped. ‘Samantha?’ She made her way back towards the front door and peered through the spyhole and held her chest as her heart rate began to slow down. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said as she opened the door.
He walked in with a big smile and a large bag of food. ‘I’m glad to see you’re so pleased to see me. I come bearing goodies.’ She peered into the bag and spotted the crisps and chocolates she loved so much. Any other day she’d be thrilled.
‘I thought you were someone else,’ she muttered.
‘Hey, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ As he led her to her seat at the kitchen table, she knew he’d spotted the card. ‘It’s not your birthday.’
‘It’s not for me.’
‘Shall I take it to where it belongs when I leave?’
She shook her head. ‘That won’t be necessary, bro.’
‘I wish you wouldn’t call me bro. It sounds so silly at our age.’ He began to pack the food away, piling it up in the empty cupboards. ‘You know it pains me to see you like this. You need to get out more, meet up with friends. You do look peaky. You’re not in debt again, are you? You know I’m always here to help.’
And he had been. He’d helped her find a new home, one that her benefits would cover. He’d nursed her through a heavy depression after losing her job. For that, she would always be grateful to him. He began to wipe the surfaces with a cloth and piled the washing-up into the bowl. ‘Look at the card.’ She pushed it along the table, open at the text.
As he leaned over and read it, his mouth dropped open. ‘Your friend Samantha. Who would send a card to her after all this time?’
Tears began to well up in the corner of Diane’s eyes as she shrugged. ‘Maybe someone knows something. What do I do?’
‘Nothing. It’s just someone playing a prank. She knew a lot of people and lots of people knew you were friends.’ He turned the hot tap on and began filling the washing-up bowl. The musty room began to smell soapy and clean. ‘You need to forget her and move on. You’ve been going on a lot lately, about her, and where she might be and I’m sick of hearing about it. I’m sick of hearing about her. She wasn’t the perfect person you always made her out to be. She left you remember.’
‘She vanished. It’s a bit different. And she never got in touch. She wouldn’t do that to me.’
‘Yes, like people never let you down and do things you wouldn’t expect them to do. People abandon people all the time and she was no better than anyone else.’ He threw the little sponge into the soapy bowl.
‘She didn’t abandon me. You can be such a cynic.’ Diane’s brow furrowed. ‘Anyway, why would someone do this? You know, send a card. I searched for her for years. Nothing. And now someone chooses to send me this. They’ve gone to a lot of effort, cutting out all these letters from a magazine.’ Her bottom lip began to tremble. ‘I’m scared and you don’t seem to be taking this seriously.’
He turned off the tap. ‘Look, Diane. I’m not going to say it again, it’s just someone playing a stupid prank. People love playing pranks. Someone out there is having a laugh and you’re falling for it.’ He placed her usual tablets out on the side. They were all ready for her to take. He leaned over and removed the clump of straggly grey hair that hid her face and placed it behind her ear. ‘That’s better, I can see you. I’ve put a new hairbrush in the draw too. Eat the chocolate, put some weight on and sort your hair out. I don’t have to worry about you, do I? I never want things to be like they were before.’
‘No, you never have to worry about me.’ She pulled down the sleeve of her coat, the scarring on her wrist now concealed. She knew he was a worrier and that scar was a constant reminder of what she’d put him through during her last episode. ‘But I am worried over why someone would leave this in the card?’ She held the tiny fingernail in the palm of her hand.
He dropped the plate he was wiping, causing soapy water to cascade over the sides of the sink and onto the floor. ‘You’re being stupid now. Just throw it in the bin and forget it. Here.’ He grabbed the bin and removed the lid. ‘In the bin with it.’ She placed the nail back inside the card and dropped it into the bin. ‘Problem gone. Maybe it’s time to accept that Samantha has gone, just like that stupid fake fingernail. Right, are you going to help me? I have to get home soon and we have to get your dinner on.’
‘I can make my own.’ She wanted him to leave and he could sense it.
‘Don’t get all het up over that stupid card.’
She looked away, remaining silent. If he thought the card was just a prank then he was clearly working against her.
‘Do it yourself then! Talk about ungrateful.’ He wiped his hands, grabbed his coat and slammed the door as he left. He’d come to visit with all the best intentions and, as usual, he’d left on a bad note. She didn’t know how she managed to do something to upset him every time, after all he did for her. Her pained heart felt as though it might explode as tears filled her eyes. She was all alone, again.
Hobbling over to the bin, she removed the lid. The card had slipped amongst all the rubbish and old food, the rising stench almost making her gag. Samantha was out there somewhere. Her friend, the daughter she never had. She reached in, yelping in pain as she pulled the dirty card out and wiped it over with the dishcloth, making sure the little nail was still inside. She dried it off and hugged it close to her chest. Where are you, Samantha?
As Diane swallowed her sleeping pill, she stared at the card on the kitchen table. After her brother had stormed out of the door earlier that evening, she’d sat in silence, staring at the card.
She clasped her awkward fingers over the small box that she had fished out from under the stairs. She opened it, pulling out a photo of her and Samantha at the café in Sanders Park, Bromsgrove, after they’d just been for a walk. They’d become close. Diane had appreciated the company as her arthritis worsened. Samantha didn’t get on with her family and Diane never had anyone to speak to, except her brother. They’d formed an unlikely bond – the recluse and the party animal. Samantha would ask advice of Diane when it came to men, Diane being more worldly-wise would try her best to answer. Over time their friendship deepened – Samantha became the daughter that Diane never had.
A heavy tear plopped onto the photo that so badly reminde
d her of her loss, then she gazed back at the card. Who would send her that? Letters cut out from some magazine. Tear after tear began to wet the photo. She closed the box, the memories contained in it were still too painful.
Holding back her emotions wasn’t working. As she burst into tears, she picked up her anti-depressants. She wouldn’t need them in the morning. She needed to feel, to think, to work out what she was going to do with the card in front of her. Her sleeve slipped down. She’d hurt herself and no one cared. She’d cried for help and no one had listened. Tablets, that’s all she’d received as a replacement for human kindness.
She shivered as she picked up the nail. There was no telling whether it really belonged to Samantha. It was perfectly trimmed and clean, like someone had just polished it. Just like her brother had said, someone was probably playing a prank on her. She opened up her little box once again and delved to the bottom, pulling out the dried up nail varnish, the same one Samantha used all the time, the same shade Diane had bought her for her twenty-sixth birthday. Holding it up, she could see the shade was the same. Whoever was pranking her knew Samantha really well. She yawned and her eyelids began to droop. Her bed was calling.
She had to do the right thing but that would have to wait until tomorrow.
Ten
The log burner crackled and Ebony, her cat, lay out in front of it, enjoying its warmth. It hadn’t been too cool that evening but the emptiness in Gina’s house had left her cold. She took another crisp from the bag as she read over the case notes again. She and O’Connor had headed straight over to Aimee Prowse and Rhys Keegan’s address but no one had been home, so they’d left a card. The appeal had aired and Gina hoped that maybe something would come from it.
