by Claire Allan
‘Rachel,’ she said, ‘we were wondering if you could call into the station, maybe this morning?’
‘What’s happened?’ I asked, immediately suspicious.
I saw Beth look at me, saw the fear in her eyes.
‘Don’t worry. There have just been some developments on the case overnight and we’d like to talk to you, and to Julie, about them.’
‘What developments?’ I asked, wanting to ask why Julie and I needed to come in.
‘I’d rather not talk about it over the phone. Look, I know you have things to do first thing. So maybe you could call in after ten? We can send a car to get you, if you’d prefer?’
I tried to keep my voice light, aware that Molly and Beth were both within earshot.
‘I’m fine to drive, honest. But you’re making me a little nervous here,’ I said with a false laugh.
‘Look, we’ll talk about it when we see you. If you ask for me when you arrive, I’ll come down and get you.’
With that she was gone and I looked to see Beth staring at me wide-eyed.
‘What is it now, Mum? Where do you have to drive to?’
‘The police just want to update me on what’s happening. Routine, don’t worry.’
There was no chance that she wouldn’t worry. Paul looked at me, one eyebrow raised.
‘They said they’ll fill me in when I get there. They said not to worry.’
‘Well then,’ Paul said, ‘if the police say not to worry, there’s no point in wasting any energy on worrying now, is there?’ he said before urging Beth to hurry up getting ready.
‘But I really don’t feel very well,’ she said, clutching her stomach.
She knew he’d not ask too many questions if he thought there was any chance it was her period that was ailing her.
‘Rachel, are you sure she’s fit for school?’ he asked me.
‘I’m pretty sure she’s absolutely fine and isn’t it better to have the school look after her than to leave her alone?’ I said, nodding towards Beth while I spoke.
‘But, Mum, I really, really don’t feel great. I’ve awful cramps and I’m afraid I’ll just start crying every five minutes.’
Paul shrugged his shoulders, absolving himself of any further parental responsibility with a smooth: ‘Your call, Rachel.’
‘But I’ve got to go to the police station; I can’t bring you with me,’ I told her.
‘I’ll lock all the doors and windows and go straight to bed. I’ll only answer the door when I know it’s you or the police.’
‘She’s a sensible girl, Rachel,’ Paul said, already filling his briefcase and getting ready to leave. ‘Besides, the police have said this is all just precautionary. We can’t change the course of our entire lives because of this. We can’t live in fear.’
I was so tired, my brain so fuzzy. I could have argued with him, but what would it have achieved except to upset Molly, and me into the bargain?
‘Okay then, Beth. You stay in bed.’ I glared at Paul as I spoke. ‘I’ll be back from the police station as quickly as I can and you must promise me not to open the door to anyone. Not a single soul! And keep your phone at your side. If anyone even remotely suspicious comes to the door, you call the police, okay? Don’t hesitate.’
She looked at me, solemn with just a hint of fear in her eyes as if she’d bitten off more than she could chew.
‘Okay, Mum, I will. I promise I’m not faking.’
I didn’t have the patience to console her, so I just turned my attention to getting Molly ready.
‘What does sausagepuss mean, Mammy?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Sausagepuss! You just said it to Beth. Anyone sausagepuss comes to the door?’
I wanted to pull that child to me and keep her this innocent forever.
‘It’s like a sausage dog, only a cat instead,’ I said with a giggle and she ran off to grab one of her soft toys, a well-loved cat, from the sofa.
I felt a wave of emotion rise up in me and I let out a shuddering breath.
‘Rachel, you need to try to keep calm or this is going to destroy you,’ Paul said.
But he didn’t stop to offer a hug. He didn’t offer to stay with Beth while I went to the police station. He just lifted his travel coffee cup and briefcase, called goodbye to the girls and left.
Chapter Thirty
Rachel
I phoned Julie as soon as I’d dropped Molly at daycare and asked her if she needed a lift to the police station. If I wasn’t mistaken, her voice was slurred as she told me that would probably be a good idea. She was at her mother’s house, had gone there after the police visit yesterday.
I arrived just after nine thirty to pick her up and saw she was waiting for me at the garden wall. From a distance she had looked well enough presented, but once I got closer the cracks were more obvious. The T-shirt she wore was crumpled, as were the loose linen trousers she was wearing. I noticed what I took to be a coffee stain on them. Strands of her hair had escaped from her ponytail and it was clear she hadn’t washed it in a few days. Her skin was dull and dry. She wore no make-up, which wasn’t like her at all, and as she climbed into the car and buckled her seat belt I could see her hands were shaking and I could smell alcohol on her breath.
When she looked at me I noticed that her eyes were bloodshot, tired.
‘You okay?’ I asked, even though it seemed obvious she was anything but.
She shrugged. ‘Not sleeping well,’ she said, looking out of the car window. ‘Brendan’s taken the kids to his parents for a few days.’
‘Maybe you should have gone too, cleared your head a bit?’ I said.
Brendan hailed from County Down on the East Coast of Ireland and a few days away might have done Julie the world of good.
She gave a strangled laugh. ‘I wasn’t exactly asked.’
I was shocked. Brendan and Julie were a great couple, always holding each other up.
‘Don’t worry, it isn’t that serious,’ she said, looking at me with tears forming in her eyes. ‘He just didn’t think the kids needed to see me getting so upset all the time. It was upsetting them. And I can hardly leave now – sure, we have the police looking to see us this morning …’
She looked back out the window, wrung her hands together. I could see she was on edge.
‘Can we go?’ she asked. ‘I just want to get this over and done with and get back home.’
I nodded, gave her knee a squeeze and we set off, neither of us speaking during the short drive. I felt aware of the photo album in my bag, which was thrown on the back seat, but now wasn’t the time to mention it. She was already worried about going to the police station. Or maybe I was just trying to hide it from myself. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was some level of responsibility on my shoulders. The weight of it threatened to crush me.
Once parked, I took Julie’s hand and we crossed Strand Road heading towards the police station.
We asked for Constable King and took our seats in the soulless reception area while we waited for her.
‘I’ve never been in a police station before,’ Julie said, jiggling her legs up and down, clearly nervous. ‘I wonder what they’re going to tell us. I mean, it’s not been good news whenever they’ve come near us; in fact, it’s been more bad news.’
‘Maybe they have a lead,’ I offered.
‘They wouldn’t call us in for that,’ Julie said, her eyes darting around the room at the tired posters on the walls offering advice on legal aid or how to beat drug and alcohol addiction. She stood up and walked to the Perspex screen at the reception desk. ‘Would I have time for a smoke, do you think? Before we go in?’
The portly officer on duty looked her up and down; Julie was already rummaging in her bag for a packet of cigarettes.
‘There’s no smoking here,’ he said.
‘I know,’ she replied, ‘but outside? There has to be a place outside.’
She was sounding increasingly agitated and I got up, e
ncouraged her to sit down, told her that Constable King wouldn’t be long.
‘I just want a smoke, Rachel!’ she snapped, twisting away from me and heading for the exit.
Just at that moment, Constable King walked through the door to our left and called our names. Swearing under her breath, Julie put her cigarettes and lighter back in her bag and followed Constable King through the door while I trailed behind, offering a weak apology of a smile to the officer behind the desk.
It wasn’t like Julie to be so short with anyone. Not even on her bad days. Then again, everything had been turned on its axis and nothing made sense any more, so it wasn’t really a surprise that Julie no longer seemed to be the Julie she normally was.
‘We appreciate you ladies coming in,’ Constable King said, ‘especially at such short notice. DI Bradley will be joining us and we hope you can help us to go through some information that might be of assistance to the investigation.’
‘Anything that can help,’ I said, while Julie stayed quiet.
We were led to a small room, devoid of any character or redeeming features. A white MDF table sat in the middle, surrounded by eight office chairs, some of which had clearly seen better days. Strip lights overhead buzzed to life as we took our seats; the only natural light in the room came from several small windows high on the walls on the right-hand side of where we were sat. None of them big enough to make any real difference to the dank feel of the place, no matter how hot and bright it was outside.
‘Can I get you a tea or coffee?’ Constable King asked.
‘No vodka on offer?’ Julie asked with a nervous laugh, but the way she was behaving I’d say she’d quite happily accept one if it were.
‘Sadly not,’ Constable King said. ‘Just tea or coffee. And if I’m honest, the coffee here is pretty disgusting. I’d stick with the tea, if I were you.’
We agreed we would and she went to fetch it, leaving Julie and I alone in the room.
‘What information do you think she has?’ Julie asked.
I shrugged. God only knew. All we’d been told before was that they were examining a number of lines of inquiry. It could be anything.
Julie drummed her fingers on the table. ‘Have you thought about it much, Rachel? Not just Clare, but those flowers? Laura? Do you think …’
Before she could finish her sentence, the door opened and DI Bradley walked in, carrying a folder and looking very much like a man on a mission.
He sat down opposite us and smiled. It should have been reassuring, but I didn’t feel especially reassured. Constable King followed just after carrying two Styrofoam cups filled with tea so strong you could stand a spoon up in them. I sat mine on the table in front of me. I was too nervous to drink.
‘Thanks for coming in. I hope we haven’t put you to any trouble,’ DI Bradley said. ‘I’m sure you appreciate that we’re all trying to get this man behind bars as soon as possible.’
‘You said you wanted us to go through some information or something?’ Julie said, fidgeting with a thread hanging loose from the hem of her T-shirt.
‘Well, you know we’ve been having difficulties tracing Ms Taylor’s digital footprint. We didn’t find her phone, her laptop or any tablet in her flat, or in her car. We were able to trace her phone records, but they didn’t throw up anything out of the ordinary. There weren’t any numbers she called or messaged repeatedly, apart from both of yours. This sounds like a strange thing to ask, but do either of you know if there was any possibility she may have had a second phone?’
I shook my head. ‘I wouldn’t think so, certainly not one that I knew of.’
‘I only knew about the one you’ve been searching for,’ Julie said. ‘Although … we were issued work phones at one stage. Don’t know why. No one ever used them. Mine’s still lying in my drawer.’
‘That’s interesting,’ DI Bradley said. ‘No one at your work mentioned that to us.’
‘It was a while back. And as I said, no one really used them. They weren’t great handsets and managing two phones was a pain. I imagine most people wouldn’t have given them a second thought.’
‘It’s a lead we’ll look into, anyway,’ he said.
‘But I don’t understand why she’d have started using it after all this time,’ Julie said, shaking her head.
DI Bradley looked to Constable King. ‘I know it seems a little out of character for Clare from what you’ve told us, but we can’t rule out that she was deliberately trying to keep secret who she was seeing and that she’d taken steps to ensure her privacy.’
‘But we knew she wanted to keep it quiet anyway, she didn’t want to jinx it. We’ve already told you that,’ Julie said.
‘Do either of you have cause to think it might have been more complicated than that? That perhaps this is a man who has a lot to lose if his personal affairs are revealed?’ DI Bradley said. ‘He might be married, for example.’
‘I really don’t think Clare would date a married man. Not knowingly,’ Julie said. ‘It wouldn’t be like her.’
I stayed quiet. We all did things outside our character from time to time.
‘We’ve run searches on various dating websites and apps. You’d said this was where Clare met the man she was dating. We’ve only found one account linked to her known email addresses and that’s been dormant for the last seven months. Even before then, she didn’t appear to have responded to any messages she received.’
That was definitely strange. I was absolutely sure Clare had told me she’d met this mystery man on Perfect Partners. I told DI Bradley as much and he checked his files.
‘We definitely checked that company and there was no record of any account attached to Clare’s name or any of the email addresses she was known to use.’
Julie started jiggling her legs again, her nerves showing.
‘I still don’t see why we’ve been brought here,’ she said. ‘You could have told us any of this, asked us any of these questions, over the phone.’
‘We’ve more to go through,’ he said as I placed my hand gently on Julie’s knee to still it.
She brushed it away.
‘Have you more aspersions you want to cast on her character? Is that it?’ she barked. ‘Because I don’t want to hear lies about my friend, having affairs, sneaking around or lying to us. There has to be a more reasonable explanation. Either that or you’ve overlooked something. God knows, it’s been almost a week. She’s still lying cold up there on her own and you’re no further forward.’
‘I know this is very difficult,’ DI Bradley said.
‘No, you don’t. You’ve no idea of just how difficult this is.’
‘Julie, please,’ I urged. ‘They’re trying to help. They’re not the enemy,’ I soothed, even if I did wonder why we were here.
She threw her hands in the air, muttered something under her breath then folded her arms and sat back in her chair.
‘Okay, okay, then. Let’s get on with things.’
DI Bradley pulled some grainy images from the folder and turned them in our direction.
‘We did a sweep of CCTV on nights when Clare’s bank records showed she’d stopped at Chill Off Licence, as we know she did on the night of her death. Just on the off-chance they might have showed her with someone we’d be able to identify. We did find someone with her on 24 May. I wondered if you’d have a look? We’ve already shown these images to Mr and Mrs Taylor, and to Ronan.’
Julie looked at me as DI Bradley pushed two pictures in our direction. Was it possible we were about to see our friend’s killer for the first time? I felt the claustrophobia of the small room start to swoop in around me. I braced myself and then looked at a picture of the back of Clare’s head as she walked into the off-licence.
Her head was tilted to the side as if she was chatting to the person who was with her. There wasn’t much to guess from. He was tall. Looked to be wearing suit trousers and a short-sleeved shirt. His face wasn’t picked up with the angle of the camera, but I could se
e his hair was on the longer side. Curled. In need of a trim. There was a familiarity about him, but before I could place him, Julie spoke.
‘That’s Liam Connolly. He works with us.’
Constable King wrote the name down.
‘And he and Clare got along well?’
‘Well, he’s worked there as long as we have. They got on grand. Had a bit of a laugh, you know. He’s more senior than us, so they’d have worked together on a few projects, but I don’t think … No … there was nothing like that going on. He’s married. A few kids, too – one only a few months old.’
I saw the two police officers exchange glances again, as if this could confirm their theory that Clare had been having an affair.
‘There’s no way Liam Connolly would hurt, or could hurt anyone,’ Julie added. ‘He’s a good person.’
‘This is just one in a number of lines of inquiry,’ DI Bradley said. ‘We have a second picture for you to look at, as well. This one was captured outside Primrose on Strand Road, on the evening of 9 May. Clare’s bank records showed that she paid for a meal there that evening, most likely a dinner for two from the receipt amount. This was captured by the City Centre Initiative outside.’
He pushed two more pictures towards us. Julie noticed it first, or at least it sank in with her first. Her hand went to her mouth.
‘This doesn’t mean anything,’ she said. ‘They’re friends. Have been for a long time.’
I just looked at the picture, taking in the shape of my husband, his arm protectively around my friend’s shoulders as they walked out of the restaurant.
I heard Constable King speak.
‘So you know who this man is?’
I felt the room start to swim around me. I looked up to the windows high on the wall, partially open but not a breath of air breaking through them. I wanted to climb the walls, stick my head through the narrow opening, past the safety glass. Breathe.
The scratches on his arms.
His coldness.
How broken we’d become.
Did I know him at all?
