by Celina Grace
Oh God. Kate recalled some of the other ‘blokes.’ The fellow alcoholic, the married man, the other married man, the petty thief. She suppressed a sigh.
“What’s he like?” she asked as they pulled into the car park of the Black Horse.
“All right, actually,” said Jay, sounding surprised. “Seems fairly normal. Not like the others.”
“Well, that’s odd in itself,” muttered Kate, almost under her breath. Then she dismissed her mother from her mind and concentrated on finding a parking space in the busy car park.
The pub was packed, standing room only. Jay and Kate battled their way through to the bar. Kate was already regretting her decision to come. She didn’t want to stand up for two hours, shifting her weight from foot to aching foot, drinking warm orange juice and listening to some crappy amateur band. She felt a bit cross with Jay. Months since she’d seen him and now they weren’t really going to have a chance to catch up at all…
She bought them both a drink after a long and frustrating wait at the bar. They battled back through the crowds to a spare square foot of space over by the back wall that was rather too near the toilets for Kate’s liking.
The noise in the pub made it difficult to talk. There was a moment of silence between brother and sister as they sipped their drinks. Kate looked out at the heaving crowd. Lots of students, couples, noisy groups of young people. Denim, leather, piercings, spiky heels, band T-shirts. She looked down at her neat blue jeans and cashmere jumper in a tasteful shade of beige. Suddenly, she felt acutely out of place. Hot on the heels of that feeling, a much sharper surge of loneliness peaked. She felt totally apart from this raucous, happy crowd; it was as if she were observing them from afar, always on the outside looking in.
That’s what being a police officer does for you, she thought, but she knew it wasn’t just that.
She caught the eye of a man in the crowd who’d turned to look her way, as if attuned to her sudden emotional state. He looked familiar. She opened her mouth to greet him, looked closer, and shut it again. She didn’t know him. Kate sipped her drink, cautiously looking back at the man, who’d turned to face the stage again. He still looked familiar. Kate mentally shrugged. She’d had this feeling before, and it usually meant she’d recognised someone she’d met in the course of her duties. Well, that was one way of putting it. Quite embarrassing, actually, running into someone you’d arrested.
She looked again at the man. He did actually have the faintly disreputable look of someone who might have rubbed up against the police at some point. His bone structure was good, you could even say he was raggedly handsome, but the overall impression was of good looks subjected to the major stressors of time, worry and hard living. He was staring at the stage, sipping a pint. Alone, like her.
No, not like her. She had Jay beside her, after all. She was aware that her brother had suddenly straightened up, quivering a little like a hunting dog spotting its quarry. There was an outbreak of noise from the expectant crowd: shouts, cheers, catcalls. Kate realised the band had made its entrance.
She spotted Elodie at once: blonde hair in an elfin crop which framed her fine-boned face. The girl had a violin in one hand, held casually but expertly against her hip, a bit like an experienced mother holds a baby. There was a male singer, hair a mass of knotty dreadlocks, nose ring glinting under the pub lights. A drummer and a guitarist, again both male, studenty, scruffy.
Elodie tucked the violin under her chin. The singer counted his band members in, and they launched straight into their first number.
Three songs later, Kate was surprised to find that she was actually enjoying herself. The band, despite their scruffy appearance, were polished performers; they were well-rehearsed and talented and still had the charming enthusiasm of an amateur group. The songs were good, alternating between rollicking, stomping pop and quieter, more melodic ballads. Elodie came into her own during the slower pieces, her nimble fingers drawing plaintive, beautiful sounds from the strings of her violin. She played with great intensity, closing her eyes, seemingly lost in her own world of music.
Kate watched her face as she played, noting the high cheekbones and the sharp angle of her jaw. A beautiful girl, and beautiful in an uncommon way. There were plenty of pretty girls in the room, but Elodie had something else, some other quality that drew the eye. No wonder Jay was smitten.
The band finished their set with a rousing, raucous little number that had the crowd cheering and clapping. Elodie flourished her bow, laughing while she took a bow, and then the musicians all left the tiny stage.
Jay turned to Kate, raising his eyebrows. “Pretty good, huh?”
“They were excellent,” agreed Kate.
“Let’s go backstage, and you can meet her.”
They battled their way through to the back of the pub. ‘Backstage’ was a bit of a misnomer—the band was crammed into a fetid little room just off the corridor, along from the toilets.
Kate was curious to see how Elodie greeted Jay. She was starting to wonder whether Jay actually knew her as well as he had implied, but she had to know him fairly well to agree to something like modelling for his painting, surely?
Her doubts were dispelled as Elodie caught sight of them. She shrieked and hurled herself at Jay, hugging him and landing a misdirected kiss on his ear.
“You came! What did you think? Were we good? Did you see me fuck up that last song? God!”
The questions came rapidly. Kate, ignored for now, could see the manic glitter in Elodie’s eyes—the dilated pupils—now that she was close to the girl. Drugs? She really hoped no one would pull anything out in front of her. She’d have to arrest them, and then Jay would never forgive her.
Jay was laughing. He turned to her and gestured.
“Sis, this is Elodie. Elodie, this is my big sister, Kate.”
“Hello,” said Kate, reaching out to shake hands.
“Hi!” said Elodie. She pulled Kate forward into a hug—Kate squeaked in surprise—and kissed her cheek. The girl’s body was thrumming with energy, her cheek warm and damp against Kate’s.
“I thought you were really good—” began Kate.
“Oh thanks, you know, first nights are always tricky. Totally nerve-wracking.”
“You haven’t played here before?”
Elodie shook her head, her eyes sparkling. Kate suddenly saw what she must have looked like as a little girl: mischievous and cherubic at the same time, with blonde curls and chubby cheeks.
“Kate’s seen the picture of you,” said Jay. “You know, the picture. She loved it.”
Elodie shrieked. “Damn you, Jay, that river bank was cold. And the mud…he made me lie in the mud for hours.”
Even over the hubbub of the crowded room, Kate could hear her beautiful accent, each vowel and syllable falling neatly into place. It was easy to see how Elodie was the daughter of the head of Rawlwood College. Privately educated, loved and cherished, she must have had the best of everything. A girlhood so different to Kate’s that it was difficult not to feel a surge of envy.
“So you’re Jay’s big sister?” asked Elodie. “He often talks about you.”
Kate smiled. “All good, I hope.” A clichéd response.
“What do you do?”
Kate glanced at Jay, wondering whether to come clean. Being a police officer—and a detective especially—was like being a call girl or a gynaecologist. People were fascinated, and they wanted all the gory details, but at the same time, they were always a little uneasy in your presence.
“Um—”
She could see Jay shaking his head, a minute gesture easily passed between siblings.
It didn’t matter anyway. She could see Elodie had lost interest in her answer; the girl’s gaze was drawn up and over her shoulder. Kate watched the light die in Elodie’s eyes, noticed the sudden dimming and shrinking of her personality. Elodie’s smile faded. She muttered something like ‘excuse me a minute’ and pushed past Kate and Jay.
Kate turned
round. The man she’d noticed earlier was standing in the doorway to the room, and Elodie was walking up to him, talking to him in a voice too low for Kate to make out their conversation. After a moment, they left the room together.
Kate frowned. Sensitive to atmosphere, she could feel the chill settling on the room. There was a sense that the party was over, that the best of the night was gone. She was suddenly aware of how tired she was.
She turned back to Jay.
“Do you want to make a move—” she began, stopping when she saw the bleak look on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
Jay seemed to shake himself mentally.
“Nothing,” he said, after a moment. She could see him forcing a smile. “I’m alright. Want a drink?”
Kate shook her head. “I’m bushed, Jay, and I’ve got to work tomorrow. Shall we head home?”
“I’m going to stay on for a bit.”
“Really?”
Jay patted her arm. “S’alright, sis. Don’t worry about me. You go on home and get some sleep.”
“But how will you get back?”
“I’ll get a cab. Don’t worry.”
Kate hunted in her bag before realising she didn’t even have a spare key.
“I’ll lock up, but just ring me on my mobile when you get back,” she said. “I’ll keep it by my bed.”
“Yeah, cool.” From Jay’s distracted manner, she wasn’t even sure he was listening. He was still staring at the empty doorway where Elodie and her male companion had been standing. Kate wavered for a moment, conscious of a faint nagging feeling of unease. Then she told herself not to worry. Jay was an adult, after all.
“See you later, then. I’ve made the spare bed up for you.”
“Cheers, sis.”
He hugged her goodbye, but she could tell his attention was still far away. Oh well. Bedtime, Kate.
She looked for Elodie as she walked to her car, thinking she might see her outside the pub door, smoking cigarettes with the little crowd that had gathered there. There was no sign of her. Kate stood for a moment, her hand on the handle of the car door, wondering whether to look for her, to say goodbye and thank you. Then she dismissed the thought.
At that moment, all she wanted to do was get home and climb into her new bed.
Chapter Two
When Kate got to the office the next day, Olbeck was already there, hunched over his desk staring blearily and uncomprehendingly at the screen. He gave Kate the big, forced smile of a man pretending he didn’t have a hangover.
“Good night?” asked Kate.
“Mmmph.”
Kate said nothing, but she reached into her desk drawer and drew out a packet of paracetemol, which she threw across the desk.
“I’m fine,” snapped Olbeck as the packet landed on his keyboard. “Just tired, that’s all.”
Kate said nothing. Olbeck relented.
“Sorry. Thanks.”
Kate got them both a coffee and sat down again. She looked again at the text message from Jay, who hadn’t come home last night. Got a bed sis, wont be hm, c u later xx. Sent at 4.13am. Whose bed? Elodie’s or some random pick-up? Or simply a friend? She tried not to worry. He’s an adult, she told herself, not for the first time.
She looked across at Olbeck, who was wincing and rubbing his temples. She wasn’t going to worry about him, either. He was an adult too, although he currently wasn’t acting much like one.
Olbeck had split up with his partner, Joe, several months ago. Having been the one to instigate the break-up, Olbeck had been making the most of his newly-found freedom. Night after night, he’d been out clubbing, partying, drinking and dancing. When he wasn’t out living it up, he was working all hours, clocking up the overtime, constantly in the office. To Kate, it seemed very much like the actions of a man who was trying not to face up to something painful. However, having had her head bitten off more than once when she’d tried to broach the subject, she’d decided discretion was the better part of valour and was currently keeping her mouth shut.
She dismissed both Jay’s and Olbeck’s private lives from her mind, mentally squared her shoulders, and turned her attention to the massive amount of paperwork littering her desk while trying to ignore the long-suffering groans Olbeck kept making under his breath.
“What have we got today?”
Olbeck shoved a file across the desk.
“That domestic assault case is coming up.”
“I thought Rav was doing that one?”
“He is, but—”
The phone rang. Olbeck picked it up.
“Olbeck here.”
He said nothing else, but there was something in the change of his posture that made Kate sit up. She sat with pen poised, feeling her stomach tighten a little. It was a sixth sense, that’s what it was; you knew when something big had happened. Olbeck wasn’t saying much, just asking a series of blunt questions and scribbling down the answers. He said goodbye and put the phone down.
Kate put her pen down.
“What is it?”
Olbeck stood up, reaching for his car keys.
“Dead girl in the river. Patrol just called it in.”
“Oh, no.”
“Afraid so. “
“Where?”
“Arbuthon Green.”
Kate was reaching for her coat and looked up in surprise. “Seriously? I was there last night. Just last night.”
“Should I arrest you?”
“Ha, bloody ha. Come on, you can tell me what you know in the car.”
It was a twenty-minute drive to Arbuthon Green, and their route took them past the Black Horse, shut up now at 10.30am in the morning. The pavement outside was littered with cigarette stubs and empty bottles. Olbeck drove on through streets of terraced houses, their walls grey with pockmarked pebbledash and festooned with satellite dishes. Abbeyford was a reasonably affluent town, but every town has its poorer areas. Arbuthon Green was one of them.
The river was a winding oasis of beauty in the squalor. A footpath ran parallel with the water, and the banks were fringed with graceful willow trees, frondy branches dipping into the water. The banks were shallow, covered in patchy grass or thick mud. As Kate and Olbeck walked towards the little knot of people further up the footpath, they could see the pale shape of the body on the bank. No tent had yet been erected to screen the body from public view.
“Where’s Scene of Crime?” Olbeck muttered, almost to himself, as they walked along.
Kate said nothing. As they got closer, she was aware of a sensation very much like shock that was beginning to set in. it was worse than shock: a sense of unreality, a feeling of dislocation. She could see the girl properly now; she was lying on her back, arms outflung. There was mud in her blonde hair, and her face was blue-lipped, ghastly pale.
“Oh my God.”
Olbeck turned as Kate stopped walking.
“What’s wrong?”
Kate was staring at the body. For a moment, she wondered whether she was still at home in bed dreaming.
“The body…it’s the scene—”
“Kate, talk to me. You’re not making sense.”
Kate turned a pale face to Olbeck. “I know her. The girl. I met her last night.”
Olbeck’s face mirrored the shock on her own.
“You’re kidding.”
They’d reached the scene now. There were several uniformed officers, a shivering man in a wet tracksuit and Theo Marsh, one of Kate and Olbeck’s colleagues.
Behind Theo, Olbeck saw the white vans of the Scene of Crime Officers draw up.
Theo raised a hand in greeting, and then frowned when he saw Kate’s expression.
“What’s up?”
Kate was breathing deeply, trying to get a hold of herself. She kept seeing the painting hanging even now on her living room wall: Elodie’s mock-dead face, her blue lips. All brought to reality right in front of her. How was it possible? She brought a hand up to her face, pinching the bridge of her nos
e hard.
“First time, is it?” one of the uniforms asked in a bored and patronising manner.
“No, it bloody isn’t,” snapped Kate. She wheeled on one heel, not waiting to hear his response, and walked rapidly away along the riverbank. She took just ten steps before stopping, but it was enough to take her away from the body. The feeling of unreality receded slightly. She stood, back turned to the scene, watching the ripples on the surface of the river. Sticks and rubbish had drifted up against the muddy banks. Half a pumpkin floated by, one carved eye socket and several grinning teeth still evident, reminding Kate that Halloween had come and gone.
She heard Olbeck and Theo walk up behind her.
“Kate? You all right?”
She turned round. SOCO had already begun to cordon off the riverbank. The man in the wet tracksuit was being shepherded towards a waiting police car.
“I’m all right. It was just a shock.”
“Mark says you know her,” said Theo. He looked worried and young. This was a situation they’d discussed before, over drinks. What if the victim was someone you knew? What would you do?
Kate opened her mouth to tell them about the painting—and then shut it again.
“I met her last night for the first time. She’s called Elodie. She’s a musician, goes to Rawlwood College.” She remembered what Jay had told her. “I think her father’s the headmaster there.”
Olbeck’s eyebrows went up.
“God. If you’re right, this is going to be…” He didn’t need to elaborate to his colleagues.
“Are you sure it’s her?” asked Theo. “I mean, if you’ve only met her once and with the water damage, and all…”
Kate was conscious of a sudden spurt of hope. How wonderful it would be if it wasn’t Elodie. Wonderful? Listen to yourself, Kate. You’re talking about someone’s daughter, someone’s child.
She dismissed her inner critic and walked up to the tape line, staring at the body. Once again, she was reminded of the painting. The posture, her face. Was it possible that the painting had actually caused her to misidentify the body because of the resemblance? Kate looked closer and her heart sank. It was definitely Elodie.
