by Carol Wyer
‘Would you please confirm that Ilsa and Laura were in a relationship, sir?’ asked Morgan.
Christian sighed. ‘What Ilsa gets up to is her business, not mine.’
Kate interrupted. ‘Do you get along with your sister?’
‘Again, I fail to see the significance of your question and I have nothing further to say on the matter. I know nothing about the attack on Laura. So, if you have no further questions, would you mind leaving. I’m rather busy.’
‘Do you know why they broke up?’ Morgan opened his notebook, scribbled a note then looked up, waiting for a response. Christian watched the parakeets bouncing from branch to branch.
‘Sir.’
He dragged his gaze away from the birds. ‘Ilsa’s always breaking some poor cow’s heart. She sets her sights on someone, charms them and then dumps them. For what it’s worth, I don’t approve of her methods and Laura didn’t deserve to be treated so badly. She was far more sensitive than some of my sister’s other flings. That’s all I’m prepared to say about the matter. If you want all the details, you’ll have to talk to Ilsa. As usual, I kept out of it. I find that’s often the best way to behave as far as she is concerned.’
Morgan lifted his pencil in readiness and requested contact details for Ilsa Laurent. Once written down, he glanced at Kate, a signal for her to ask anything she had on her mind.
‘Mr Laurent, did Laura contact you after she left Tomkins Solicitors?’
‘No.’
‘Did she talk to you about Ilsa at work, during the time they were together, or after the break-up?’
‘Never.’ Although his response sounded assertive, he glanced down as he spoke.
‘Even though Ilsa is your sister? Surely, you must have at least exchanged pleasantries from time to time, or even met them both at social events, other than the party where you had your photo taken with them both.’ Kate gave a half-smile, enough to cause his hand to raise again to his throat. He was anxious about this line of questioning. ‘Well?’
‘No. I’ve already explained that I didn’t want to get involved in my sister’s love life.’
‘So, there weren’t any moments when the two of you were alone in the office and chatted about Ilsa?’
A frostiness crept into his voice. ‘We didn’t hang out around the water cooler, shooting the breeze, or discussing her love life, if that is what you wanted to know. She was an efficient legal secretary and pleasant to work with.’
‘You liked her?’
‘Yes. I liked her, but not in any romantic sense. She was . . . fragile and I felt slightly responsible for her dismay.’
‘Why?’
‘If I hadn’t been stuck in a meeting when Ilsa came to visit me, she wouldn’t have had time to get so friendly with Laura and chat her up.’
The way he spoke gave rise to a fresh notion and Kate hesitated a moment before speaking again. ‘Sir, can I ask you, were you jealous of your sister’s relationship with Laura?’
He spluttered loudly, an exaggerated, guttural explosion that gave Kate the answer. ‘What a preposterous suggestion. Why on earth would I be jealous?’
Kate allowed the smile to remain on her face. ‘Very good, sir.’
Morgan made a show of writing something down in his notebook and snapping it shut before saying, ‘We will need to establish your whereabouts on Friday evening. If you wouldn’t mind providing us with that information, purely for elimination purposes.’
‘Oh, for crying out loud! You can’t imagine I was responsible for the attack.’
‘As I said, sir, it’s for elimination purposes.’
He threw his head back and spoke in a monotone to the ceiling. ‘I was working late and left the office sometime between eight thirty and nine o’clock. On my way home, I stopped off at the Red Lion at Hopwas, to attend the celebrations for Geoffrey Tomkins’ birthday. Several of my colleagues who were already there at the time will vouch for me. My wife will be able to verify that I returned around eleven.’
‘Can anyone confirm you were in the office at that time you say you were there?’
‘No. Everyone else went to the pub. I was held up, working on a difficult brief.’
‘I see,’ said Morgan. ‘If you don’t mind, we’d like to take a quick DNA sample from you.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘Again, it’s for elimination purposes.’
‘No. Absolutely not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get on.’
‘I’ve one more question,’ said Morgan.
‘Make it snappy.’
He flicked through some images on his phone, stopping at one of Heather, before handing the device to Christian. ‘Do you know this woman?’
He glanced at it and shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Take a good look, sir. Her name is Heather Gault.’
He stared for a moment longer before passing it back. ‘I don’t recall ever seeing her.’ He jumped to his feet, sending the parakeets fluttering again. Kate placed a business card on the table.
‘This is my number in case anything comes to mind. Tell me, sir, are you a member of any clubs or gyms?’
‘No. I have a personal trainer who visits here twice a week. He puts me through my paces.’
‘Resistance training and running?’
He shook his head. ‘Mostly circuit training and sparring.’
‘Boxing?’
‘Yes. I find it helps relieve stress.’
‘Have you ever practised any martial arts?’
‘I did a bit of kick-boxing a few years ago. I really don’t see the relevance of—’
Kate didn’t let him finish. ‘And, do you recognise this phone number?’
She showed him the pay-as-you-go number Heather had been calling.
He shook his head.
‘And what about last night? Where were you?’
‘Last night? I was at the office.’
‘Again?’
‘Yes. Again. I have a demanding job.’
‘What time did you leave?’
‘Why?’
‘Could you answer the question, please?’
He sighed. ‘About a quarter past eight. My wife was expecting me home at eight and I was a little late.’
‘Was anyone else working at the office at the time?’
‘No.’
‘And do you usually work on a Saturday?’
‘Yes, if I have a lot of work to catch up with, and yesterday was one of those days.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Right.’ He stared at Morgan, who took his time in rising from the sofa and stood in front of him, towering over the man.
‘Thank you for your time, Mr Laurent. We might need to talk to you again.’
‘I’d appreciate it if you rang me first to arrange a time.’
‘We’ll try to remember that, sir.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ilsa’s studio flat was capacious and well designed. She’d maximised the space by leaving it uncluttered. The hob over which hung a steel hood looked like it had barely been used and all kitchen equipment was out of sight, hidden away in cupboards, so not even a canister of coffee or a mug were on display.
Kate perched on the edge of a round swivel chair with a half-moon back and thick cushioned arms. It was more a sofa than a chair and easily capable of accommodating two people, as long as one of those people wasn’t Morgan, who’d opted for a bright green plastic chair that matched the bed throw and cushions that jazzed up the grey furniture. Ilsa Laurent sat cross-legged on her bed, a box of tissues in front of her. Devoid of make-up, her skin was blotchy and her eyes sparkled with tears. Sitting in a vest and wide-legged lounge pants, she displayed lean, muscular arms bearing various yoga-inspired tattoos: a moon, lotus flower, the OM symbol and the chakras. She lifted her chin. ‘I’m actually lost for words. Poor Laura.’
She reached for the tissues once more and blew her nose. ‘Sorry. This has been quite a shock.’
‘I understand and I
’m sorry to give you such bad news. Do you feel able to answer a few questions about Laura, now?’
‘Sure. Whatever I can do to help.’
‘I’d like to start with your relationship. Why did it come to end?’
Ilsa’s voice was light and gentle. ‘It was on me. I’m not very good at long-term relationships. They always seem to go the same way. I start off thinking “This is the one”, and then I realise it isn’t. Laura wasn’t what I was looking for. I thought she was, but she wasn’t.’ She glanced at the copy of Shakespeare’s Sonnets resting on Kate’s lap. She’d already admitted having gifted it to Laura. ‘It’s so sad that she kept that book and the photo. I thought she’d get over me, just like I did her, yet all the time, she was hanging on to a reminder of the past and us. Terribly sad.’
‘We were told that you split up over some misunderstanding on Facebook. There was an ex-schoolfriend who kept liking Laura’s posts.’
‘Oh, yes. I remember. Kevin. He was a pest. A bit of a Facebook stalker. I don’t know why she couldn’t see him for what he was. Then, I happened to be passing a café and spotted them sitting together and saw how he looked at her. I waited until she came home and explained that he was interested in her. Properly interested in her. I told her she ought to stop pandering to him and we argued. She thought I was being unreasonable when I was only concerned about her. She couldn’t see that and things got out of hand. Next thing, she was in tears because she was reminded of her parents who would argue and then she became highly emotional, crying and blurting out all sorts of stupid shit about how much she loved me, that she couldn’t live without me and couldn’t bear it when we argued. She was so . . . needy, it turned my stomach and in that moment, I had an epiphany – she wasn’t the one for me. She begged me to tell her I loved her and I’m sorry to say I did exactly the opposite. I was so pissed off by her attitude, I said some things I’m now ashamed of. Once spoken, you can’t take back the things you say, can you? I hurt her and, at the time, I didn’t care. I just wanted to get out of the relationship before it suffocated me and so I left.’
‘Did you see her again?’
‘A few times, but each time we met up it was a disaster. She acted bizarrely: crazy, desperate, to the point when I knew I couldn’t face even seeing her. I told her it was definitely over, and that it was my fault that we’d rushed into a relationship. She persisted in ringing me until I blocked her number and she finally got the message. I didn’t hear from her again.’
‘When was the last time you had any contact with her?’
‘Late November, last year.’
‘You didn’t know she’d left the law firm in February?’
‘As it happens, I did. My brother mentioned she’d quit. He wasn’t happy with me. He thought it was my fault she’d gone.’
‘Did he get on with Laura?’
‘Oh, yes. Thought the sun shone out of her arse. He certainly wasn’t pleased when I started seeing her. He warned me off, but I never listen to him.’
‘Why did he warn you off?’
‘He knows what I’m like about relationships . . . and thoroughly disapproves of my behaviour.’ She scowled for an instant. ‘It’s not as if I deliberately set about sabotaging them. I simply seem to have no luck in them.’
‘Did he warn you off other women?’
‘No, only Laura.’
‘Have you any thoughts as to why?’
‘Why do you think? He had a thing for her.’
‘You’re saying he fancied her?’
Ilsa gave a knowing smile. ‘Yes. I would say he fancied her. She was exactly his type – quiet, submissive and innocent. Nevertheless, Laura was my girlfriend, not his, and his interest in her wasn’t reciprocated.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Completely. Laura wasn’t able to form relationships with men. She found them . . . too challenging.’
‘Yet she was friends with Kevin Shire.’
‘He was an exception. Have you met him? He’s . . . unthreatening and, quite frankly, completely wet.’
‘Apart from Kevin, she wasn’t friends with any other men?’
‘No. She didn’t have many friends, male or female. There was her old schoolfriend, the nurse. I’ve forgotten her name.’
‘Alicia?’
‘That’s her. Laura used to meet up with her, once or twice a week.’
‘But you never tagged along?’
Ilsa let out a low laugh. ‘No. Laura was too embarrassed to let on about our relationship. She’d never come out about being a lesbian, and the prospect of doing so terrified her. That was one of the reasons I knew it couldn’t work between us. I don’t believe in hiding my sexuality. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘What about work colleagues? Was she friends with any of them?’
Ilsa shook her head. ‘She got along with them, but didn’t socialise.’
‘Can you think of anybody who’d wish her any harm?’
‘Nobody at all.’
‘What about her father and his partner? Did she speak about either of them?’
‘Rarely. I suggested we visited them together, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She was convinced Steve hated her. It was mutual, by the way. She convinced herself Steve had been having a relationship with her father all the while he was married to her mother, and that Steve even helped kill her. It was ludicrous, of course. Her mum was really unlucky and got cancer. The trouble was, Laura couldn’t come to terms with the fact that shit like that happens. And she simply couldn’t accept her dad had, and that he’d moved on.’
She stared at the tissue, twisted it between her fingers and tiny fragments, like minuscule snowflakes, sprinkled onto her lap and she let out a shuddering sigh. ‘I should have been kinder. If I’d let her down more gently, then maybe she wouldn’t have moved away and this wouldn’t have happened.’
A further fifteen minutes with Ilsa produced nothing new to assist them with their investigation. She was completely in the dark about Laura’s shoplifting episode and depression and, like Christian and other work colleagues, was unaware she’d moved to Abbots Bromley. Laura had been erased from all their lives, leaving Kate wondering how many people the woman had really been able to count upon as friends. Other than Alicia, she’d made little impact on any of them, and Kate found that saddening. Morgan was still processing what they’d heard, his face set. ‘What do you make of them both?’ asked Kate.
‘Christian was twitchy and not because I was death-staring him. He’s a lawyer, he should be used to pressure, yet he definitely seemed nervous to me.’
‘I picked up on a couple of gestures: rubbing his neck, not fully focusing on you when you asked certain questions. Of course, he might have felt intimidated, so we shouldn’t read too much into it. In light of what his sister just told us, I’d guess he had a crush on Laura, which might also explain his nervousness.’
‘I think there’s more to it.’
‘I’m not sure. He didn’t know Heather, and so what if he liked Laura? Ilsa said it wasn’t reciprocated.’
‘Exactly! Maybe he was incredibly frustrated that she wasn’t into him. What if his feelings ran deeper than just fancying her? And if he was jealous enough, he might have attacked her.’
Kate wrinkled her nose and considered his theory. It wasn’t too far-fetched. Morgan was talking eagerly now.
‘It takes, what, around thirty minutes to travel from Abbots Bromley to the Red Lion at Hopwas? He has no solid alibi to confirm he was actually at the office, so it’d be possible to place him in Abbots Bromley around the time of Laura’s murder instead. It would give him ample time to commit the crime and still reach the pub to meet his colleagues after nine o’clock. Same for Saturday evening. His office is within walking distance of Trentham House.’
‘But that still doesn’t explain Heather.’
Morgan gave a shrug. ‘Who’s to say he didn’t fancy her too?’
‘We’re still looking into Kevin. We’ve already got
grounds to suspect . . .’ She shook her head. ‘No, you’re right. We should check out Christian’s movements. Get the tech team to pull any CCTV or surveillance footage in the vicinity of his office. See if you can spot either him or his car, around the times he claimed he left work.’
Morgan gave a low grunt of acceptance then added, ‘I got the impression he recognised Heather from the photo. He was too quick to dismiss it. I’m going to do some more digging on him.’
‘That’s what I like to hear – dedication.’ She glanced at her watch. It was coming up to four o’clock.
‘Don’t forget you have to talk to Cooper’s daughter too. Time’s ticking, Kate.’ She was startled by the voice in her head. In the last few hours, she’d barely given Chris a thought.
She turned to Morgan. ‘There’s a petrol station up the road. Would you stick fifty pounds of fuel in the car for me, while I grab us coffee and snacks?’ While she was inside, she’d ring to see how the girl was doing, maybe even arrange to visit her later today. Losing Cooper was a blow, especially as there was no one else she could ask about the murder at the club. Farai wouldn’t talk to her again. Sierra really was her last hope.
‘No probs. Could you get me a cappuccino?’
‘Sure. And do you want a chocolate leaf or a heart motif on top, or maybe a unicorn?’
His shoulders rocked with silent mirth. ‘A frothy white with sugar will do nicely. No design.’
They drew up beside a petrol pump and Kate leapt out, leaving Morgan to fumble with the disposable pump gloves and filler cap. She headed across to the coffee machine and selected a white coffee and as the machine whirred and spluttered into life, she rang Sierra.
‘Hello?’
‘Sierra, it’s Kate.’
‘You heard about Dad?’
‘I’m so sorry. How are you? Have you got somebody with you?’
‘A friend. I’m . . . numb. I don’t believe for one second he killed himself. He was prepared to serve his sentence. I only saw him the other day and he wasn’t depressed. If he’d even been thinking about . . . I’d have known. And . . . what about me? He wouldn’t do something like this without leaving me a note or saying goodbye.’ A note of hysteria had crept into her voice.
