by Gwyn GB
‘Eddie has. There’s been loads of people he’s helped through the agency.’
‘Do you have any idea who might have wanted to kill Neil Parsons?’ Bob asks now.
Carly shakes her head.
‘No.’
‘Can you tell us where you were on the evening of October 13th?’
‘Yeah, I knew you’d ask and we were having dinner with Clarissa and her family.’ She hangs her head again, ‘I feel terrible just moving out like that. I was with her from about six to midnight.’
‘You said to me that Neil wasn’t the only agency client to have died, that there were others. Why did you say that?’
‘Because it’s true. Because I was beginning to wonder… I don’t know, but something just told me it was a little odd.’
‘Why did you think it odd, surely they were natural deaths?’
‘Yes, it’s just there seemed to be so many. I manage the client accounts you see and they all had one thing in common.’
Claire and Bob both look at Carly expectantly now.
‘They were the clients we’d had on our books the longest.’
‘All of them?’
‘Yes. If you look at how long they’d been with us, how many dates they’d been on, the ones who died were those who had been on the most dates and had been members the longest. I used to think that maybe there was a reason for that, you know they were just not the kind of people who others fell in love with because they were depressed or something, but it niggled me.’
‘Did you mention this to Eddie?’
‘Yes, but he doesn’t see people the way I do, he’s very trusting and couldn’t believe that something bad was going on.’
‘Why didn’t you contact the police about this?’ Bob asks.
‘Well, I think you know that. It’s why I’ve ended up here. Nobody else seemed to think their deaths were suspicious and I wanted to keep a low profile.’
‘Did you suspect that someone at the agency might have been involved?’
Carly looks thoughtful, then shrugs.
‘I don’t know. I read a lot of crime thrillers so I was thinking about the motive. The only one who seems to have it in for Eddie is Rosa McKenna. She found out that some of the photos in the books and on the walls aren’t really clients and she knew the agency was struggling financially. I’m not saying it’s her or anything, but she’s the only one I know who had threatened Eddie. She’d dated just about every one of our male clients and not a single one of them was either good enough for her or wanted to see her again. Doesn’t that tell you something about a person?’
39
Claire, 18th October 2016
Rosa McKenna isn’t too pleased about having to come into the station to be interviewed, but Bob is insistent.
‘She wants a bloody home visit, does she? Well I want her in here, out of her comfort zone. Tell her it can be voluntary or it can not. Up to her. I’m too busy trying to track down a murderer to drive round for a coffee and chat.’
Claire tells her and quietly admits to herself that she enjoys laying down the law to the hard-faced Rosa McKenna. They release Carly Watson on bail and on the proviso she is available for further questions. Claire also puts her back in touch with the domestic violence team and asks them to see if her ex is still a credible threat. Claire has to admit she’s disappointed. The fact Carly’s name change and disappearance appears to be nothing to do with the case means they’re back to square one. Eddie will have to answer a few questions though, but as Rosa is next in the interview room, she’s certainly not going to be in for an easy time of it.
Once Carly is dealt with Claire tries to catch up with as much of the information gathered by the team as she can. There’s still no further news on the elusive Michael Stratton. They’ve been through all the CCTV around Neil’s flat and nothing has been flagged up. Everyone has been cross checked to see if there are any connections, besides the agency, and that’s drawn a blank. Neil’s killer has now earned the nickname, the invisible man, and Bob is getting more irate by the hour. Cue Rosa McKenna. Claire has a sneaking suspicion Bob isn’t going to warm to her.
‘I’m really not very happy about having to come in here like this. I do work you know,’ Rosa berates Claire and Bob before they’ve even said hello.
Bob smiles thinly, ‘I’m sure Neil Parson wasn’t very happy about being murdered, which is why we are undertaking an investigation to find out who killed him.’
Rosa bristles at his snipe, but it shuts her up. Claire suspects she’s not used to people standing up to her. She’s dressed in a pinstripe suit today which makes her look even less human than she had when Rachel saw her at home. She reminds her of one of those robotic alien characters off Doctor Who.
‘Thank you for coming in to answer a few questions,’ Bob begins, his voice carries a slight undertone of sarcasm that only those who know him would detect. ‘I’d like to ask you firstly please how you knew Mr Parsons and where you met?’
‘I have already said this!’ Rosa McKenna looks at Claire as though she has the IQ of a chimpanzee. ‘Neil and I met for a date on August 27th at Zedel in Soho.’
‘Thank you Ms McKenna, and that was the only time you ever met Neil?’ Bob pushes.
Her face changes a little now, a small wave of uncertainty flows across it. She doesn’t change her demeanour, the change is subtle but for Claire and Bob it’s a marker.
‘Yes.’
‘Only I’ve been reading Neil’s application for the SoulMates agency, and it was noted that his friend suggested he join after a recommendation from yourself.’
The wave of uncertainty changes from a gentle lap to surfing proportions.
‘Well, yes, but that was just a brief encounter.’
‘What was Ms McKenna?’
‘I bumped into a guy at a club, he had worked at Stalton and Jones for a couple of months, where I work, and he introduced me briefly to Neil.’
‘Briefly?’
‘Yes, we chatted for a bit, he mentioned that Neil was single and just wasn’t meeting the right girls. I suggested to Mike that he tells him to join SoulMates.’
‘Mike?’
‘Yes, Mike Stratton, the guy who used to work with me, they were really good friends - so he told me.’
‘When was this?’ Claire asks now.
‘Actually I think it was August, the beginning. I think Neil joined up mid-month.’
‘You think?’ Bob chips in. ‘He signed up on the 25th, according to his application and the first matches were sent to him by the twenty-eighth. Your profile wasn’t in the matches sent.’ Bob scans the agency records for Neil Parsons and shows them to Rosa McKenna.
A tidal wave rips across Rosa’s face now, disturbing her rigid features, making her face flush red and her mouth twist.
‘How were you able to go on a date by the 27th with someone you hadn’t been matched with?’ Bob presses.
‘Look I haven’t done anything wrong. I met Neil that first time and I liked him OK? I thought he was hot and I wanted to go on a date with him. I just used my brains and engineered it so that we could meet properly. What’s wrong with that? As a premium member you can choose to contact people. I looked out for his profile and as soon as it was available, got Gary to contact him for me. It’s all above board, just ask Eddie.’
‘How well do you know Michael Stratton?’ Bob changes direction now.
‘Not very well. He was a temp, worked in our department for a couple of months last year that’s all. Really outgoing, was a complete charmer, the kind of guy who’d get on with both men and women. He was fun.’
‘Are you still in contact with him?’
‘No. I saw him once more after August, at the same club, the Zero:Ten and that’s it.’
‘With Neil?’
‘Yes, with Neil and some woman.’
‘Some woman?’
‘I don’t know who she was, long dark hair, petite, loads of make-up. I think she was a girlfriend.’
/> ‘Whose?’
Rosa shrugs and shakes her head.
‘Couldn’t tell you. I didn’t hang around after I knew they were both there.’
‘Why leave?’ Claire asks.
Rosa looks at her, fixing her gaze.
‘Have you ever been snubbed by someone you fancied? I’d really liked Neil, I had hoped he was going to like me but he didn’t give it a chance.’
‘So you were angry at Neil?’ Bob jumps in now, purposefully goading.
Rosa frowns and scowls at him. ‘Look I don’t have to be here you know. If you’re going to in any way start implying things then I’m going to call my lawyer. In fact, I’m going to do that right now. I think I’ve answered all your questions.’
She rises from her chair, picking up her handbag.
Bob holds his hands up. ‘Actually I do have some more questions, Ms McKenna if you wouldn’t mind staying seated?’
‘Actually I do mind. I need to get back to work and you need to stop harassing me and get on with finding out who murdered Neil.’
With that she grabs her jacket, hoisting it off the back of the chair and swooshing it onto her shoulder, nearly hitting Claire in the face as she goes.
Bob and Claire are left sitting there in her wake.
‘That went down well then!’ Bob says. ‘She’s a buttoned-up tight-arsed madam isn’t she?’
Claire smiles.
‘You could say that, but is she capable of murder?’
‘She’s a control freak that’s what she is. Certainly wouldn’t commit a murder herself, but could she have someone doing it for her? Possibly but she’s going to really have to be a bitch if she’s killed him because he won’t go out with her.’
‘Maybe it’s just the ones she really likes, she can’t bear them rejecting her and going out with someone else.’
‘Possible,’ he nods. ‘Right now, possibles are all we have. The key to Neil’s death will be found once we’ve tracked down Michael Stratton, I’m sure of it. Nobody disappears into deepest, darkest Vietnam unless they are hiding from something. In the meantime, let’s do some more digging on the delightful Ms McKenna. We need to be sure she’s not lying about her alibi, or her relationship with Stratton.’
40
Rachel, 18th October 2016
Eddie sends a text first thing to say the office is closed for the day. It’s the first text she’s been grateful to receive lately as it means she can spend some time with Reg, who’s been looking listless and not eating much. He’s still in the utility room and she’s going to keep him in there, close to her, where he’s safe and warm.
Rachel’s also glad for the time to think. It’s looking increasingly like the agency might go down the tubes with the latest setback and that’s a big blow. She loves her job, it’s important, even though she knows people just don’t understand that. She’s going to need to start looking for another way to continue doing her work.
In all honesty, the whole situation with the stalker has also tainted her enjoyment of the house. It’s compromised, invaded. The housing market in London is phenomenal right now so maybe it’s time to move on, get away from whoever it is that’s disrupting her life. She’s not running, she’s just being pragmatic. Having the day off will give her the chance to contact agents and get them round.
The house isn’t exactly untidy but Rachel walks from room to room, looking at what she might need to sort out, trying to view her home from a buyer’s point of view.
Her phone buzzes with another message. She expects Eddie’s name to pop up on her screen again but it’s just a phone number and the words,
‘Not working today Bitch?’
Rachel sways a little with the shock of it, her eyes ranging around her. She ducks out of sight of the windows. This means they have to be out there now to know she hasn’t gone to work. She immediately forwards the text to DI Falle. Within a few minutes, a police car has arrived and she sees two officers in her back garden checking the area.
A few minutes later there’s a knock at the door. Assuming it’s one of the police officers Rachel goes straight to answer it. Her guard is down.
When she opens the door there’s no one there.
As the two policemen re-appear from the side entrance to her garden, empty handed, something at her feet catches Rachel’s eye. She sees the note first, ‘This should have been you,’ and initially she can’t make out what the brown, mud covered thing is on her doorstep, so she bends down a little to peer more closely. Through the mud she sees white teeth. White rabbit’s teeth stained with orange. Rachel recoils in horror. The two police officers rush over and look at what she’s staring at. Rachel stands there, hand over her mouth, stifling the urge to scream.
‘It’s my rabbit, Amber, he’s dug her up from the garden where I buried her,’ she finally manages to say, looking up at them wide-eyed and shocked. ‘Why? Why are they doing this to me?’
41
Unknown, 18th October 2016
That was so exhilarating, and the expression on her face...
It’s time to play the final hand.
I’m coming for you Rachel Hill. I know your secret and I am going to make you pay.
42
Rachel, late May 1994
To begin with Rachel thinks she’s dying. Blood is never good, is it? She must be ill. Her first instinct is to call out to her dad, but she knows he’ll still be sleeping off last night’s whisky, and besides, she doesn’t want to because of where it is. She’s embarrassed.
She starts to think maybe this is God’s way of helping her be with her mother again, in heaven, but Rachel isn’t ready to die yet. She’s scared. Her lower stomach feels like something is squeezing and pulling at her insides; stretching them out until the flesh almost rips. The pain, sharp and dull at the same time, is what has woken her and then she felt the stickiness of the blood between her thighs. When she pulls back the duvet, shock hits her as she sees the red which has seeped through her pyjama bottoms and onto the bed sheet.
She rushes to the bathroom and using a hand mirror, tries to see where the blood is coming from. She can walk, the blood isn’t pouring. As the panic subsides, she remembers the lessons at school. Could this be what they called a period? There wasn’t any talk of pain like this but the rest of it fits.
She goes back to bed and lies, foetal like, clutching at her tummy for a while, rocking to and fro when the pain gets too bad. Maybe she can go to the doctors or look at the computer in the school library, get some information - if she can manage to walk down the lane to the bus.
It’s hard to wash the blood from the sheet and her pyjamas. Rings of rusty red, like some deadly tide lines, remain and she has to scrub at them with soap to make them fade. Even with the scrubbing the stains can still be seen. She leaves them to dry over the back of a chair in her bedroom. Her father never ventures in here.
She finds an old vest, long since grown out of, cuts it in strips and then wraps them around her panties. It feels like a big lump between her legs but at least there are several layers to go through before the blood can seep onto her clothes.
Walking to the school bus is a struggle. Every now and then the pain will increase and she’ll be forced to stop, clutching her stomach. Even without the sharp pain, her back aches as though in sympathy with her womb.
The ride to school is a blur, she is so self-conscious. Everyone must know. She must look different. Sitting down eases the pain, but it doesn’t go away and the bulge of vest strips between her legs is uncomfortable.
She can barely concentrate in lessons, the urge to rock back and forth through the pain is huge. The last thing she wants to do is sit rigidly upright on the plastic classroom chairs, but she does for fear of drawing attention to herself. She tries to think of her mother, what she will have said and done, as wave after wave rips at her insides.
What if the blood has come through? When the bell goes for end of lesson she hangs back as the other kids get up for break. She hopes they�
��ll clear the classroom so if the blood has leaked through her trousers they won’t see.
A group gather round a magazine near to the front and aren’t going anywhere.
Rachel has to move.
She rises tentatively from her chair. There on the blue plastic seat is a smear of red. She feels her cheeks flush immediately and panic floods through her. Grabbing a scrap of tissue from her blazer pocket and as discreetly as she can, she wipes the smear away. Now she has to get to the toilet without anyone seeing her. She takes her blazer and wraps the arms around her waist to cover her rear, and almost runs to the loos.
The vest strips have leaked down one side, the blood making their once white material all red and brown. What is she going to do? Is this normal? She readjusts the strips and adds some toilet tissue, carefully hoisting her pants and arranging the make-shift pad so as to avoid any further leaks. Her school trousers are thankfully black so it’s difficult to see the blood, but there’s no way she can carry on like this. Rachel heads to the library and breathes a sigh of relief when she sees that the research computer is free.
It doesn’t take her long to confirm she’s having her first period, and so she avidly reads up on the information her mother would have told her.
She needs a pad, but where is she going to get one from? Rachel hasn’t any girl friends she’d trust in school, not trust to not go and snigger behind her back and tell the rest of the class. The thought of everyone knowing mortifies her. There’s only one person she can turn to, Miss Mayhew.
Miss Mayhew is on duty in the playground when she eventually finds her, and the bell for a return to classes is just ringing. Children are streaming into the school building but Rachel stands firm against the human tide and waits for Miss Mayhew to be alone.
‘Miss Mayhew?’ she tentatively asks. The pain is one thing but the agonising embarrassment of what she’s about to say is worse. ‘Can I ask you something please?’
