No semen. No vaginal abrasions. The report estimated the window of time in which she was killed as 12 to 1 a.m.
Belsey turned back to the stab wound. A coup de grâce, he thought. Maybe. Certainly administered easily enough. Sometimes you could see the level of calm or frenzy in a wound. This one looked cool as anything.
Someone touched his shoulder.
‘Nick. Steve Tanner. I was worried you might have got lost.’
Tanner had a square head, thick silver hair combed back into a brush. He shook Belsey’s hand.
‘Just being nosy,’ Belsey said.
Tanner glanced across the photos. ‘Did you know the girl?’
‘For ten minutes.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He frowned appropriately. ‘Geoff McGovern says we’re lucky to have you as a witness. A top detective right there. I’m glad you could come in.’
‘It’s no problem.’
‘We’re upstairs. More private.’
He led Belsey to the stairs.
‘Geoff says you used to work together.’
‘Long time ago.’
‘Not one of his golf buddies, then.’
‘Not quite.’
‘In here.’
He directed Belsey into a windowless room next to the CID office. One table, four chairs and a water-cooler. A senior detective he recognised, Jean Courtney, was waiting.
‘So you are here,’ she said. ‘We were getting worried.’
Courtney didn’t shake his hand. She gestured to a seat. She was the go-to homicide DCI, a hard-eyed woman with short brown hair. Together, they looked like a couple you might meet on holiday and avoid. You could imagine Tanner trying to sell you a used car. It was hard to imagine Courtney doing anything other than nailing you for murder.
‘Counting on you, Nick,’ Courtney said. ‘You were there. You could be valuable.’
‘I hope so.’
‘Her old man’s on his way over,’ Tanner said. ‘Private jet and all that. Lots of friends in high places. You’re in the game, you know what it’s like.’
‘Big pressure.’
‘So let’s get a few times down. When do you reckon you last saw Chloe?’
‘Around eleven p.m.’
‘See her leave?’
‘No.’
Tanner scribbled this on the sheet in front of him. It seemed to take a lot of concentration.
‘You got there about ten to nine?’
‘That’s right.’
‘We’ve got shots of that.’ He glanced up, smiled. ‘You’ve shaved, I see.’
‘Yes.’
Tanner spent a moment admiring the sheen of Belsey’s jaw. He regretted shaving: changes of appearance rang alarm bells.
‘What time did you leave the club?’
‘A bit after midnight.’
‘We can’t see you on the cameras when you leave.’
‘I left by the back. I was with Amber Knight.’
Tanner smiled. ‘Very nice. Tell me about this back entrance.’
‘It’s a fire exit. Stairs lead down from a restaurant above the club.’
‘How did you find that?’
‘Amber showed me.’
‘She a friend then?’
‘No. But I think she might have been a friend of Chloe’s. Have you spoken to her yet?’
‘Not yet. Spoke to her people.’ Tanner did quote marks with his fingers. ‘Can’t wait to meet her though. Daughter’s a fan. What’s she going to say?’
‘I don’t know. I’d be interested to hear.’
A crooked smile from Tanner. Courtney’s expression hadn’t changed once. She studied Belsey without blinking.
‘How did Chloe seem when you last saw her?’
‘OK.’
‘Drunk?’
‘No.’
‘Anyone giving her trouble?’
‘Not that I saw.’
Tanner thrust himself back in his seat, fists still clenched on the table.
‘Loulou’s,’ he said, with wonder in his voice. ‘Not the old Dog and Duck, is it. You a regular?’
‘It was my first time.’
‘What’s it for a pint in there, eh?’
‘I don’t think they do pints.’
‘Really? Taste of the high life.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And you turn up there with Amber Knight on your arm. I should get myself suspended, Nick. Seems a blast.’
It was their first acknowledgement of his status. They’d been waiting. Soon they’d be onto his lack of a fixed abode.
‘It’s not all glamour,’ Belsey said.
‘Then, am I right, you were at the crime scene this morning?’ Tanner pressed on, leaving the suspension to one side.
‘I heard about it on the news. I came to see what was going on.’
‘And you told Detective Inspector McGovern of your suspicions.’ Tanner checked a sheet beneath the one he was writing on. Paper-clipped to it was Mark Doughty’s student ID, which he unclipped and studied. ‘This the guy?’
‘He has a thing about celebrities. I think you should try to find him. I’m no longer sure how he fits in.’
‘No longer sure.’
‘No.’
‘OK. Did you exchange numbers with Chloe, Nick?’
‘I gave her the business card that was by her body.’
Tanner winced. ‘Geoff told you about that?’
‘Yes.’
‘A few people got one, it seems.’
‘I was drumming up business.’
‘Where do you usually keep them?’
‘In my wallet.’
‘Can you show us?’
Belsey showed them his wallet. ‘They’re all gone.’
‘I’ve got to ask this, Nick. How much had you drunk, personally?’
‘Personally? Lots.’
‘What kind of thing?’
‘Different drinks. Champagne, cognac.’
‘Remember who you were talking to between eleven and twelve?’
‘Some of them. Look, I wouldn’t put too many resources into me.’
‘You pose a bit of a problem, Nick, that’s all.’
‘We had some confusion over your address,’ Courtney said. ‘We checked 26 Royal College Street. That’s the last address we have for you. Landlord says you just upped sticks twelve days ago.’
‘That’s right.’
‘So where’ve you been since?’
‘Sleeping rough.’
‘Really. People have been trying to get hold of you. But you’re off the radar.’
Belsey suppressed a sigh. If there was one thing police hated it was the lack of an address. As if a home was all that kept people from erupting into criminality.
‘So, no fixed abode,’ Courtney said, writing this down.
‘Not at the moment.’
Tanner joined his stumpy fingers and leaned forwards again.
‘This investigation nonsense going on about you, Nick. I’ve only heard bits and pieces but it sounds like typical crap. Officer who’s done so much for the force. Long service. Think you trained with a mate of mine, Phil Godfrey.’
‘What are you trying to get at?’
‘I’m trying to ascertain your state of mind in recent days.’
‘It says on the board downstairs that Chloe had a cloakroom ticket on her when she was killed,’ Belsey said. ‘Was there a coat at the club?’
‘Why?’
‘That’s strange, isn’t it? Leaving a club without collecting your coat. In a hurry, or intending to return. She walks away from taxis, buses, shops, away from everything – into the backstreets. Maybe she was going to meet someone. Someone she knew.’
They continued to stare at him, but looked more thoughtful now. Belsey didn’t rush it.
‘She knew you by the sounds of it,’ Tanner said.
‘No she didn’t.’
‘Things were getting a bit heavy between you, by all accounts. How did that turn out in the end?’
; ‘She left and got killed.’
‘They haven’t lived, have they, posh birds,’ Tanner continued, undaunted. ‘Don’t understand respect.’
‘Christ. Am I the best you’ve got? You really think I killed her?’
‘Did I say that?’
‘Everyone’s lived as much as anyone else. That’s what I’ve been thinking about. How do you quantify it?’
‘Don’t change the subject.’
‘I’m elaborating on it.’
‘You’re bullshitting.’
‘Of course they understand respect,’ Belsey said. ‘That’s all they understand.’
Tanner and Courtney considered this.
‘Maybe that’s what got her into trouble.’
‘Respect?’
‘I met her last night. You want to find someone she trusted. Someone who can say “Meet me a block away” and she goes. Away from people and cameras. Without her coat.’
The detectives didn’t take their eyes off him. Belsey pressed on.
‘Why take her phone? Police can still pull records of any calls. So what was on it? Photos?’
‘I don’t get you, Nick.’
‘I realise that.’
‘What is it you’re not telling us?’
How to conduct a murder investigation, Belsey thought. He tried to check his anger.
‘There’s a lot I’m not telling you. I’m not convinced you’d listen to me anyway. And I’m off the payroll right now, so fuck that.’
He stood up.
‘Sit down,’ Tanner said. ‘Don’t mess us about.’
‘Don’t mess me about.’
‘No one pays you for co-operating with the police, Nick. You know that. Withholding information constitutes a serious crime.’
‘Then I don’t have a clue.’
They kept their exasperation silent.
‘Speak to Amber Knight,’ Belsey said.
‘You think Amber did it?’ Tanner’s grin returned.
‘I’m going to the bathroom,’ Belsey said. Things you can’t really do unless an individual’s been formally charged: stop them going to the bathroom, accompany them to the bathroom, watch them leave the bathroom and leg it. At the very least, it has the effect of putting interviewing officers on the back foot.
‘Don’t go too far,’ Tanner said, uncertainly.
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
Belsey stepped out into the corridor and checked the door to the stairs. He heard Tanner and Courtney shift their chairs and begin a consultation. They had a quick decision to make. He’d given them no fixed address. He had a history of absconding. Even if they knew the whole thing was crap, an arrest in time for the six o’clock news would be nice. He would have done it in their position: wrong-foot the real killer, calm public nerves.
The door to the stairs was unguarded. Belsey was heading for it when it opened. A blonde woman appeared, gripping a Starbucks cup. She was followed by a woman constable who guided her to the chairs in the corridor.
‘They’ll be with you in a second. Need anything?’
The woman sat down, shook her head, watched the PC depart. She lifted her Prada shades. It took Belsey a second to recognise her.
‘Tatiana,’ he said.
Tatiana looked at him, blankly. ‘Are you Detective Tanner?’
‘I’m Nick. From last night. I was at Loulou’s.’
He saw her trying to work out what this meant.
‘Oh.’
She seemed numbed; his guess was a combination of shock and Valium.
‘Have they spoken to you too?’ she asked. Her speech was muddy. Belsey glanced back at the interview room.
‘I’m actually a police officer. I’m working with Detective Tanner. Last night I was undercover.’ He paused as the information dripped into her consciousness. ‘This is where I work. I can’t believe what happened to Chloe. It’s awful. But we’re going to find the person who did it.’
‘You’re a police officer?’
‘Yes.’
She looked confused.
‘Do you remember her leaving the club?’ he asked.
‘No. I didn’t know where she’d gone.’
‘Did Chloe know Amber Knight?’
‘Amber Knight? Yes. Why?’
‘Did she say anything last night – about Amber?’
‘No.’
‘Anything else? Anything that seemed unusual?’
‘Yes, some things. The necklace—’
There was a screech of chairs in the office.
‘Come with me,’ Belsey said.
11
THEY GOT THROUGH THE DOOR to the stairs and left the station fast.
‘Where am I going?’
He led her to his car. She stared at the Audi with a slightly disorientated doubt. Belsey opened the door for her.
‘Get in,’ Belsey said. They climbed in. He started the car and pulled into Mayfair traffic for the sake of moving, unsure where to go. ‘What necklace?’ he said.
‘She gave me this.’ Tatiana searched in her bag. She brought out the necklace Chloe had been wearing.
‘She gave it to you?’
‘Yes.’
‘When?’
‘Last night.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. She knew I liked it. She said she wanted me to have it.’
‘How did she seem?’
‘I don’t know. We were drinking. I thought she was joking. She said when I looked at it I could think of her.’
He stopped by Grosvenor Square, took the necklace from her. Held the turquoise pendant and remembered it lying against Chloe’s collarbone. It was a large droplet, misshapen. A teardrop, perhaps. Glass. The chain was gold.
‘She posted this picture to Instagram. Last night.’ Belsey showed her the bridge. ‘Know where this is?’
‘No. Maybe from a holiday.’
‘Has she been anywhere recently?’
‘She’s always travelling. What’s going on?’
‘I don’t know. Tatiana, last night she said you were staying with her, right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You stay there last night?’
‘I went back because, when I couldn’t find her, I thought she must have gone home. I thought maybe she was with you or something.’
‘So you have a key?’
‘Yes.’
‘When you got home, was anything different? Anything out of the ordinary?’
‘No. Not that I saw. It was tidy.’
‘Tidy?’
‘Yes.’
Belsey returned the necklace. ‘What’s the address?’
‘Beaufort Gardens. In Knightsbridge.’
Tatiana tapped Rescue Remedy into her mouth as he started the car again. She rolled the window down, found a tissue and dabbed her eyes behind the shades. Belsey swung back towards Marble Arch, heading west. Tatiana’s phone rang. He could hear Tanner’s voice on the other end.
‘Yes,’ Tatiana said. ‘I’m with a police officer now . . .’
‘I’ll deal with it,’ Belsey said. He took the phone and hung up. ‘Don’t answer it if he calls again,’ he said, handing it back. ‘This is more important. Last night, you said you were over for a shoot.’
‘Yes. I live in New York. I had some work here – and to see friends.’
‘When did you get to London?’
‘Thursday.’
‘And you’ve been staying at Chloe’s throughout?’
Tatiana nodded.
‘How did she seem?’
‘She’s always . . . she gets anxious. Up and down, you know? I mean, she was fine. Then, on the weekend, she was more serious. But that was just her. That was Chloe.’
‘What exactly was she doing?’
‘She was quiet. Checking her phone. Stuff like that. We were going to get brunch on Sunday, but then she didn’t want to.’
‘And she was OK Thursday, when you arrived?’
‘Yes.’
‘Anything that
might have happened in between?’
‘I don’t know. Yesterday, I think there was something about a lawyer.’
‘Like what?’
‘She went out, said something about that. Needing a lawyer, wanting to speak to a lawyer.’
‘What do you think she needed a lawyer for?’
‘Maybe business stuff. Or to do with property. I don’t know.’
‘Do you think she visited a lawyer?’
‘I guess. I have no idea. It was nothing to do with me.’
Not for the first time in his career he wished his star witness wasn’t knee-deep in diazepam.
‘Had Chloe been anywhere over the weekend that might be connected to her starting to worry?’
‘She was out Saturday night.’
‘Where?’
‘She didn’t say. It was a last-minute thing. I was going on a date anyway.’
‘Did you see her when she came back?’
‘Not until the next morning.’
He drove west, past Hyde Park Corner. Into the part of London that felt least like home.
‘And you don’t remember her leaving Loulou’s last night?’
‘No. She disappeared. I spent about an hour looking for her. She left her coat. I waited until the very end. She wasn’t answering her phone. So I figured she’d gone home. She gave me the necklace. I went to the bar. I was dancing. Then she was gone.’
‘And apart from me, you didn’t see her talking to anyone?’
‘No. It’s down here.’ She directed him down Brompton Road, past Harrods, to a pristine residential square.
Chloe’s apartment block was new: dark grey marble and long windows. The ground-floor reception looked like a private art gallery, with spotlights on small sculptures and an incongruous tapestry behind the security desk. A smart concierge got up from his seat when he saw Tatiana, buttoning his jacket; sombre, eastern European.
‘This is a police detective,’ she said. The man nodded at Belsey. He took a sheet of paper from the desk and handed it over.
‘Here. If it is helpful.’ It contained names and contact numbers for building managers and night security. ‘All will help with any questions.’
‘Thank you.’
‘If there’s anything further we can do . . .’ He spread his hands. Death’s own concierge. Belsey thanked him again. They crossed the reception into a lift with a small bench and a pot plant in it.
The House of Fame Page 9
