by Jan Newton
It seemed strange to be heading for Chester and the motorway in this direction. Strange and painfully slow. The rush hour had finally begun and the A483 had obviously been built with horses and carts in mind, not cars which might want to overtake each other occasionally. As, finally, she queued to get onto the roundabout which would take her onto the motorway, she watched the other drivers. In the car alongside her, a woman made a shape with her mouth, which could only mean that the application of lipstick was imminent. In front of her, a little boy in a maroon blazer and gold-tasselled cap pulled faces through the back window of a huge Mercedes, obviously not strapped into his car seat. People flouted the law every minute of every day, and in reality, there was little she could do about it. She couldn’t even protect her parents or, for the moment, find out who snuffed out Rosa’s life up there on that desolate moorland.
Someone behind her beeped. The traffic lights were green, and she slammed the car into gear and followed the little boy in the Merc across the roundabout and onto the slip road. This was what she was used to. Head-down flat-out drivers who steadfastly refused to acknowledge the presence of an interloper waiting to join the motorway. She barged her way into the inside lane between a bus with a huge and smiling cartoon driver on the back and a black Subaru, whose owner seemed less than pleased at her advanced driving skills, judging by the arrangement of fingers she could see in her mirror. This was what she was used to.
The euphoria didn’t last long. By the time she had queued on the M60 and sat in stop-start traffic for twenty minutes on the way into Manchester, she was missing the empty tarmac of the A470.
*
She drove down her parents’ street and viewed it with the eyes of a stranger. Old-fashioned concrete lamp posts and intermittent wheelie bins stood sentry. Cars were everywhere, parked on either side of the road and planted in twos and threes in what used to be front gardens but were now concrete and tarmac. It was one huge car park, from one end of the street to the other. Apart from number 45. She smiled as she pulled into the drive. Her dad’s car would be tucked up in the garage and his garden still was a garden, with precision flowerbeds around a tiny central pond, a little oasis of colour. She was amazed at her relief on seeing grass there and not concrete. Maybe this country living was getting to her. Her mother opened the front door before Julie had even switched off the engine.
‘You shouldn’t have come.’ She squeezed Julie’s arm through the open window and stepped back to let her out of the car. ‘But I’m glad you did.’ She threw her arms round her daughter and Julie caught the familiar waft of Simple Soap and a touch of hairspray.
‘So what’s been going on here then?’ Julie held her mother at arms’ length and studied her face. ‘Hey, that’s not like you.’
‘It’s just a bit of a shock, that’s all. I’m being daft.’ She sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a tissue pulled from her sleeve. ‘It could have been much worse, but it just makes you feel a bit wary, as though everything’s just a bit dirty, if you know what I mean.’
Julie did know what her mother meant. She had lost count of how many times she had heard those exact words from victims of burglary. That sense of violation, that someone could walk into your life and take away some of its security. How much worse would that be for the family of a murder victim? ‘How’s Dad?’
‘Oh you know your dad. He’s determined to play it down. He’s changed all the locks already, and as far as he’s concerned that’s an end to it.’
‘What about his injuries?’
‘They’re hardly blooming injuries.’ Julie’s father was on the doorstep. His left hand and forearm was heavily bandaged, but otherwise he looked just the same as he always did, but desperately tired. ‘I was unlucky. He walloped me with a picture frame. It broke the glass, that’s all. It’ll be right as rain in a couple of days.’ He hugged her with his good arm. ‘So it takes a bashing by a burglar to get you back here, then?’
Julie blushed. ‘I know. I’m sorry, I should have been back sooner, but it’s been one thing and another, and I don’t know where the time’s gone.’
‘I was joking, lass. You’ve got your new life to sort out down there. That’s not to say I’m not chuffed to bits to see you.’ He stepped inside the hallway to let her in. It didn’t look any different, but when she looked down the hall and through the kitchen window, she was struck by how close the houses at the back were. She had never noticed before. She had always thought of the area where her parents lived as being almost suburban, leafy and spacious, but now she was aware of the narrow garden, the fences and walls which chopped the space into tiny, bite-sized parcels of highly-coveted land.
The house was as tidy as ever, surfaces polished, carpets vacuumed, everything in its place. Nobody would ever know that anything had happened.
‘What’s missing?’
‘Nothing much,’ Julie’s father nodded towards the living room. ‘Just your mother’s mobile phone. We disturbed him, caught him in the act.’ He grinned. ‘That’s what you say, isn’t it?’
‘You’re certain it was a male then?’
‘I’d have said so. It’s difficult to say, it all happened right fast. One minute he was in the doorway and then he’d gone. It was only when I reached out to try to grab him that he clobbered me with the picture frame. It was stupid, really, if I hadn’t tried to stop him then I wouldn’t have ended up with this.’
‘What sort of height do you think he was?’
‘Don’t worry, Julie love, the local police have been wonderful. They’ve asked all the same questions and they’re pretty certain it was just kids, trying their luck.’
Julie nodded. ‘Probably. But make sure you lock everything properly. Put the chain on the door.’
Yes, Miss.’ Her dad put his good arm round her shoulder. ‘Don’t you worry about us. We’re pretty good at looking after ourselves by now you know. We’ve had a bit of practice. Now, tell us all about where you’re living and what the people are like where you work.’
*
Julie glanced at her watch. Two hours had flown. ‘I really must get going,’ she said.
Her father smiled. ‘You could stay a bit longer, you’ll not get back in time.’
‘For what?’
‘To get back to work. I know you, you’d work twenty-four hours a day if they let you.’ He checked the clock. ‘You wouldn’t be back in time for much, even if you left now.’
‘I’ve got one of those steak and kidney pies you like from Booths in the freezer. And I could do chips.’ Her mother certainly knew how to get round her. ‘It wouldn’t take long.’
Julie grimaced. ‘Now that’s just not fair, Mum.’ She stood up resolutely and slung her bag over her shoulder. ‘I don’t suppose the pie would be all right tonight if I took it with me?’
Her mother tutted. ‘I’ll go and get it,’ she said, but she was smiling as she left the room.
‘You got something else planned for today then?’ her father asked.
‘Well I have, but it’s important.’
‘Work then, is it?’
‘God, am I so predictable?’
‘You are, love. Are you allowed to tell me about it?’
‘Not really, but it’s about the body of a young woman who was found not far from where I’m living. She’s got connections in Preston and possibly Blackpool, so I thought…’
‘You thought you’d fit in a trip to the old folks.’
‘You’re not old. No, it was the other way round. The most important thing was coming to see you and Mum. The other stuff was just an idea I had. I thought it would help to see where she was from and maybe ask the neighbours if they remembered her.’
‘I know, love. I was pulling your leg.’ Julie’s father stood up slowly and shepherded her towards the door. ‘Just promise your mother you’ll come and see us again soon.’
‘You could come and stay with us, both of you. It would be great to show you round the Green Desert of Wales.’
�
��Sounds tempting.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I’m not sure your mother would leave the house empty just at the minute. Give her a few weeks and she’ll be back to normal, but it’s left her a bit wobbly, all this burglar business.’
Julie’s mother bustled back in with an oblong package wrapped in newspaper. ‘I’ve put two in there, it’s all I had in the freezer. Just make sure you heat them up properly.’
‘I do know what I’m doing with an oven, Mum.’
‘When did that happen?’
‘Yeah, OK, so Adam does most of the cooking.’
‘He is a good cook, I’ll have to give him that much.’ Julie’s mother glanced sideways at her. ‘You have to be good at something, don’t you?’
Julie returned the oblique glance, perfectly aware what her mother meant. ‘He’s more reliable in most other departments these days, Mum, but the worrying thing is he’s decided he’s vegan.’
‘Vegan?’ Julie’s dad burst out laughing. ‘I’ve heard it all now. Does he think he’s saving the planet?’
‘Nope. He says it’s the healthiest way to eat and we should all embrace it.’
Her father snorted. ‘He has some rum ideas, that lad. And you’ve embraced this healthy lifestyle, have you?’
Julie waved the packaged pies under his nose. ‘Obviously. I’ll have my steak and kidney with air-fried sweet potato chips and falafels on the side.’
‘Twit.’ He hugged her. ‘I do miss your sense of humour.’
‘You will be all right, won’t you?’ she asked. ‘If you want me to stay, I can.’
‘Thank you,’ her father said. ‘But you have your own life in Wales now. You can’t keep worrying about us up here, can you?’
‘Just like you don’t worry about me down there?’
‘Fair point.’ He rubbed her shoulder. ‘But we’re not so far away, are we? Not really. I promise we’ll call if we’re worried about anything.’
‘And you’re always welcome to stay here, you know you are. You and Adam,’ her mother said. Julie knew that she meant it, even though her faith in Adam’s ability to look after her daughter wasn’t as solid as it had once been.
‘Thank you, that means a lot,’ Julie said. ‘And you’re welcome to stay with us. We have a spare room that’s small but perfectly formed. And you will let me know if you hear anything about your… visitor?’
They both hugged her as they said their goodbyes and waved as she reversed the little Fiesta into the road. As soon as she got round the corner and into the next street she had to pull over to blow her nose and wipe her eyes. When did they get to look so old? They weren’t old. Of course they weren’t. Her dad wasn’t quite sixty and her mother a good couple of years behind him, but suddenly they looked as though they were verging on old age. It would be the shock, she thought. They probably weren’t sleeping. That would be it. They’d soon be back to normal.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Day Five
When was the last time she had driven this road? Blackpool Illuminations? Sally’s hen party in Fleetwood? She overtook a black Range Rover with black tinted windows, which was weaving badly in the middle lane. The driver wore dark sunglasses and copious amounts of chunky bling and was talking on his mobile phone. She glared at him, but he flicked his finger at her and looked away. She had no intention of doing anything about it, and much as it annoyed the hell out of her, she attempted to ignore him.
The last time she had been on this road was with Helen Mitchell, her partner in crime, or rather in attempting to solve it, in her former life in Manchester Metropolitan Police. They had been called to give evidence at Preston Crown Court, in a case involving luxury cars stolen to order for export. Even Preston had seemed small and foreign to her then, let alone the depths of mid Wales. Funny how things turn out sometimes. She cut across the Range Rover into the inside lane, to make a minor point. The Range Rover swerved into the inside lane and sat just inches from her bumper. She wasn’t about to pick a fight in a Fiesta with a car the size of a small tank up her rear end, was she? She indicated left, drove down the slip road and joined the frantic junction by the Tickled Trout Hotel. The Range Rover didn’t follow. She pulled into the petrol station, parked away from the pumps and phoned Goronwy.
‘Oh, it’s you. Where are you, the boss said you had things to do up north. You on the trail of the Blackpool connection, is it?’
‘I’m just outside Preston. Do you know if Rosa’s parents have been informed yet? I thought I’d go and have a nosy round theirs and see if any of the neighbours are of the blabbing variety.’
‘They’re on their way to us, apparently. The local lads went to inform the parents this morning, once we got final confirmation from Dr Greenhalgh. She confirmed that Rosa probably died on the Thursday or, at a push, early on the Friday morning before she was found. She says that’s definite, but that she can’t be any more specific than that. The parents are pretty certain it’s her from what they were told, but they’d not seen her for quite a while. Her father agreed to identify her and they insisted on driving themselves down, there and then.’
‘I can’t imagine how that must feel.’ Julie watched a father and a little girl with blonde bunches giggle their way from the shop, across the forecourt to their car. ‘That must be the worst feeling on earth.’
‘Yes, Sarge, it must.’ Goronwy sounded as though he genuinely meant it, and Julie smiled to herself. She worked with such a small group of people now, in comparison to the hectic office in Manchester, and yet they were all so different.’
‘Did you pin down that address in Blackpool, by any chance?’
‘We did. Well, Rhys did, to tell the truth. The house is on Eighth Avenue. We’ve had a look on Google Street View, and it just looks like an ordinary street.’
‘Well what were you expecting? Something with a sign outside saying Drugs Are Us?’
‘No, Sarge, but it’s really respectable. You just don’t think that Blackpool would be like that do you?’
‘Don’t you?’ She laughed. ‘Not everywhere outside Powys is a den of iniquity, Goronwy. Give us the number and I’ll go and have a look there too, it’s only about twenty miles from where I am now. It would be a shame not to.’
‘Right you are, Sarge. It’s number eleven.’ There was a pause, then Goronwy added, ‘You will be careful, won’t you?’
‘I will, Goronwy, I will, and thanks for the info. See you tomorrow.’ She laughed as she cut the connection. They all thought she was totally reckless after the episode up on the Epynt, which had left her alone and looking down the business end of a loaded rifle.
*
The house in Preston was large and well cared for. An estate agent would have referred to it as an Executive Detached with ample well-stocked and mature gardens. It was as good a place to start as anywhere. At least she’d get a feel for the place and what the family was like. She walked up the drive and pushed the doorbell, always a good move before peering through windows, even though she knew that Rosa’s parents were on their way to Wales. She had her warrant card in her hand, and as the door opened, it was a reflex action to show it to the man.
‘Detective Sergeant Julie Kite, Mid –,’ Her jaw dropped and she scrabbled in her bag. ‘You might be just the person I’m looking for.’ She looked from her photocopied drawing to an identical face, looking down at her from the step.
The man took the drawing from her and studied it carefully, then he whistled. ‘Wow, somebody has a talent for faces. Where did you get this?’
‘It is you, then?’ She handed him the smaller drawing with the detail of the rose tattoo.
He pulled up the sleeve of his sweater. ‘I guess this would give the game away.’ He gazed at the picture again. ‘Can I keep this?’
‘You can,’ Julie said. ‘We’ve got a couple of hundred of them.’
‘So I’m a wanted man?’ He held the door open for her. ‘I’m guessing this is about Caroline?’ Julie nodded. ‘Then you’d better come in.’
&n
bsp; Inside, the house was minimalist. Pale wool carpet and doors with heavy brushed steel handles gave way to the black marble tiles and granite of the spacious kitchen. The man held up the kettle. ‘Coffee?’
Julie nodded. ‘Yes, please.’ She clambered onto a red leather stool by the breakfast bar. ‘What’s your name?’
‘I’m Ardal. Stupid name, really, but my mother’s Irish. It was her father’s name.’ He took two white china mugs from the cupboard above the kettle. ‘I’m Ardal Patrick Harding. Caroline’s brother.’
‘She didn’t call herself Caroline though, did she?’
‘She used to. Well, Caro to her friends.’ He smiled. ‘She was a great kid. Full of what she was going to do. She was going to be the best small animal vet in Lancashire.’ He looked away, just for a second. ‘She’d have done it too. If she hadn’t got herself mixed up with that bastard.’
‘That bastard wouldn’t happen to be called Quigley, would he?’
Ardal stared at her. ‘How would you know that? Is he wanted in Wales too?’
