by Jane Casey
‘You seem to know her very well.’ I had moved around so I could see her face.
‘I’ve worked for her since Cheyenne was six months old. They’re my family.’ She straightened a brush and comb, her fingers lingering on them for a second longer than was necessary. ‘I’ll stay as long as she needs me.’
‘How do you think Gayle will manage?’
‘She doesn’t know what’s hit her at the moment, what with John being arrested.’ She shook her head. ‘God knows. I think she’ll fall apart. She loved her, like I said. Wanted to be her friend. That was the problem.’
‘Speaking of friends, do you have contact details for Katie and Lily?’
‘Have you got a pen?’
Rob produced one and I had my notebook to hand. She wrote their mobile numbers down from memory, along with addresses for both of them.
‘They both live over towards Hatfield. I used to pick her up from their houses all the time. She couldn’t wait to be able to drive so she could come and go as she liked. Always wanted to be independent, you see.’ She gave a long, quivering sigh. ‘You just think to yourself, what could I have done different? What could I have said to her that would have stopped her from going to meet a stranger? Why didn’t she have more sense?’
They were unanswerable questions. I looked around at the room, seeing a girl caught between childhood and the grownup world that she longed to join. She had only seen the promise of freedom, not the dangers that went with it. Useless to tell the housekeeper that she had done her best, that there was no point in regretting things unsaid. She knew as well as I did that it was all too late.
I bullied DCI Redmond and DS Small into driving me over to Hatfield so I could meet the friends, accompanied by their mothers. To give them their due, they didn’t complain much, even though it took them out of their way. It would be a couple of hours until the girls were home from school and I settled down in a café to wait, alone. Rob, looking unaccountably embarrassed, had made his apologies and returned to London with the other two officers. He had somewhere else to be, he had said. Which was fine, of course. I read through another witless magazine without taking in a word of it and drank three cups of tea, and just as I was about to leave I remembered: it was Friday. Of course Rob had somewhere to be. He had a hot date.
I tackled Katie Harper first. In person, she was blossoming from the braces-wearing giggler of the photographs to a self-possessed young lady with a winner of a smile. She was wearing a lot of smudgy eye make-up but with jeans and a hoodie so it didn’t look as if she was trying too hard to be grown-up, unlike her best friend.
There wasn’t much sign of the smile once I broke the news that Cheyenne’s body had been found. I explained that because it was a new investigation I needed to ask the same questions all over again and Katie nodded, fully prepared to cooperate, but there was little she could add to what I knew already. Cheyenne had told her about Kyle and how she’d been contacted by him through Facebook.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be over sixteen to have a Facebook account?’ her mother asked.
‘Thirteen, actually. But Cheyenne changed her birth date to pretend she was nineteen. They don’t check up.’ Katie’s mother was not looking impressed, and her daughter rushed on. ‘It was just Cheyenne. She said people would think she was a baby if she used her real age.’
‘What people? People who didn’t know her?’ I asked.
She nodded. ‘She used to chat to people all over the world. She got a guy in Australia to help with a geography project once.’
‘So this wasn’t the first time she’d met someone over the Internet.’
‘It was the first time she went to meet them in person. But no, she had loads of friends online.’ Katie turned to her mother. ‘You don’t have to worry. I would never do something like that. I just use it for keeping in touch with people. You’ve got to be on there or you miss out. You know I don’t have any friends on the Internet I don’t know in real life.’
‘That was the rule,’ Mrs Harper explained.
‘Very sensible.’ I didn’t say that a similar rule would have saved Cheyenne, but I can’t have been the only one who thought it.
‘Why did he get in touch with her?’
Katie shrugged. ‘He saw her pictures, I think. Liked the look of her. She kept her profile open so anyone could see it. She liked the attention.’
‘Did she get a lot of it?’
A blush. ‘Her pictures were quite …’
‘Grown-up?’ I suggested.
‘Mm.’
‘In what way?’
Katie wriggled. ‘Well … she was in her underwear. Or posing like this …’ she pulled her hoodie off her shoulder and struck a glamour model pose.
‘What?’ Mrs Harper was looking appalled. Her daughter bit her lip. Someone was going to have to do a lot of talking to be allowed to keep her Facebook profile.
‘Did you see any messages from Kyle?’
‘Just the one Cheyenne sent us. I showed it to the other police lady.’ She meant Marla Redmond.
And that was that. I didn’t get anything new out of Katie. Lily, who was already aware Cheyenne was dead when we got there thanks to a text from her friend, was a little bit more helpful, though I had to wait while her mother persuaded her to come out of the bathroom.
‘Lily has got a very vivid imagination,’ Mrs Flynn whispered. ‘She’s been having awful nightmares, thinking about what happened to her friend. I don’t know if it’s better or worse to know.’
‘Always better to know,’ I said.
‘Do you think so?’ She played with her necklace, looking nervy enough herself. ‘If she asks, don’t give her too many details, will you?’
‘We don’t really have that many, to be honest with you. But I’ll watch what I say.’
It was a very wan teenager who trailed into the living room eventually. She was quiet, her answers brief but not intentionally unhelpful.
I was true to my word and took care with how I phrased questions, not wanting Mrs Flynn to pull the plug on the interview before I was finished with my list.
‘Do you know what Cheyenne wore to the club?’
A nod. Praise be.
‘Can you describe it to me?’
‘It was a white minidress. It went over one shoulder and had a fitted bodice. It was really light material, almost see-through, and the skirt was pleated. And she had gold strappy sandals and a pale pink mask. She had little flowers and sparkles for her hair.’
‘Wow. You have all the details.’
‘I like fashion,’ she said quietly. ‘Cheyenne tried it on for me before she went. She wanted to look amazing.’
‘Did she go on the train dressed like that?’ Her mother sounded frankly incredulous.
‘No, she was going to get changed in McDonald’s. She had everything with her in a plastic bag.’
‘What was she going to do with the clothes she was wearing for the train?’ I asked.
‘She was going to hide them. She didn’t care what happened to them, though. She didn’t mind the idea of coming back the next day in her dress. Cheyenne liked the attention.’
She had liked it a little bit too much, I thought. ‘Is there anything else you think I might need to know?’ A shake of the head. ‘Do you have any questions?’
‘What happened to her? How did she die?’ Lily’s eyes were wide, her voice so faint that I had to lean forward to hear her, but the questions were instant, urgent, as if they had been at the forefront of her mind.
‘We’re not exactly sure. We’re finding out, though.’
‘Was she hurt? Before she died?’
I could see that Mrs Flynn wanted me to say no. I settled for, ‘It’s hard to say at the moment, Lily. But I saw her this morning and she looked as if she was asleep.’
‘Really?’
I nodded. ‘Does that help?’
She wriggled.
‘Can I ask you something else?’ A nod. ‘You and Cheyenne were ve
ry different, weren’t you? How come you were friends?’
‘She was fun,’ she whispered. ‘She made me laugh. And she never made me feel stupid. She stuck up for me when a girl in our year was being mean.’
‘What did she do?’
‘She told her she’d get her dad to get someone to burn down their house. She meant it, too. Their garden shed went up in flames the following night.’ A slight smile touched the corners of Lily’s mouth. ‘I didn’t have any trouble after that.’
The trains from Hertfordshire into London were running behind schedule thanks to ‘a person under a train’ at Liverpool Street Station. The person in question got scant sympathy from my fellow travellers; it was the height of rudeness to allow your suicide to interfere with other people’s evenings out, after all. I trailed home, bone tired, aware that while I was hacking through the public transport system, Rob was being vamped solid by the beautiful Rosalba Osbourne. It made me so cross that I almost took the front door off its hinges as I slammed it.
‘Steady on, darling.’ Walter was halfway down the stairs.
‘Sorry. Bad day.’ I fumbled my keys and had to sort through them again to find the right one for my door.
‘I wanted a word with you, actually.’ Wheezing as he worked his way down to the bottom of the stairs.
‘Oh?’ I turned my back on my door. There was no way I was inviting him in.
‘It’s a little bit awkward.’ His eyes slid over my face and up to the cornicing. The smell of pot hung around him like a veil. I was probably getting a contact high just by standing within two feet of him. ‘I should have talked to you about it sooner.’
I had a feeling I knew what was coming. ‘Go on.’
‘It’s just that I didn’t know your job when I took you on as a tenant.’
‘I wouldn’t have expected it to be a problem.’
‘No, it isn’t. I’m a law-abiding fellow.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ I lied.
‘I don’t want any trouble, that’s all. My tenants are like my friends, usually.’ He jerked his thumb at the door opposite. ‘Chris has been here for many years. Brody’s the same.’
I wouldn’t be staying for many months, I hoped, but I wasn’t going to say that. ‘There’s no reason for there to be any trouble.’
‘No. But … people want to be able to relax, do you see what I mean? They don’t want to have to toe the line in their own home.’
‘Mr Green, I have no interest in causing anyone any difficulties. I have a duty to report any wrongdoing if I become aware of it, but I’m not the sort to notice things.’ Not when I know better than to be officious. ‘So if someone was, say, smoking cannabis in their own flat, behind a closed door, I wouldn’t pick up on that.’
‘Really?’
‘Not if it was for personal use.’
‘That’s all it would be,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m sure that’s all it would be.’
‘Dealing, on the other hand, I would have a problem with,’ I warned.
‘Nothing like that. Nothing at all.’ He was sweating.
‘Then everything’s fine.’ I waited a second. ‘Is that all?’
‘Your boyfriend.’
‘He won’t cause any problems either.’
Walter’s face twisted. ‘That’s not it. Not exactly.’ His tongue darted out and played at the corner of his mouth as he worked out what he wanted to say. I averted my eyes, repelled. ‘Look, I know it’s none of my business, and I can’t tell you not to have him here, but I think it would be best if you saw each other elsewhere. He must live somewhere. Go and stay with him if you want to be together.’
‘You’re right, it is none of your business.’ I stared at him. ‘Why on earth would you say that? Is it because he frightened you the other night?’
He shook his head, flustered. ‘No. It’s just better, that’s all. Better not to have too many strangers around.’
‘He’s not a stranger to me,’ I said tartly. ‘And I noticed Szuszanna has her boyfriend stay over more often than not.’
‘True, true.’ He started to shuffle away. ‘Forget it, then. I just wanted to say.’
‘Well, you have said.’
He waved without turning. Completely perplexed, I watched him go back up the stairs. There was no way I was going to do as he asked. I had a perfect right to have visitors in my flat. There was nothing about it in the lease. And it wasn’t as if we were noisy. Quite the opposite.
I collapsed on the sofa and watched mindless television for a while, trying and failing to wind down. My phone sat on the coffee table, completely silent. The hours slipped by without a call or a knock at the door. It was just me and the remote control and a phone that never rang.
When I finally gave in and went to bed I stared into the dark, too cross to close my eyes. I told myself I was just annoyed about Walter, and what he’d said. That was certainly a part of what was keeping me awake. As I waited in vain for sleep I came to one conclusion, which was that I would make a point of having Rob to stay over, just to prove I could, just to make it clear that I wasn’t going to be told what to do.
If he ever wanted to again, obviously.
Chapter Fifteen
Saturday
After a night of tossing and turning my hair was a sight to behold. Fortunately I woke early enough to justify the time spent on taming it into smooth waves with the straighteners I rarely had the chance to use. I sashayed into the office bright and early with my head held high. I was wearing a charcoal-grey trouser suit that fitted me extremely snugly, hugging my hips and curving at the waist and generally leaving as little to the imagination as work wear can. I usually put it back on the hanger as a result, but today I was feeling reckless. Under it I wore a black top that was very slightly sheer and very definitely low-cut, rather than the plain white shirt I would usually have chosen. The jacket buttoned to a point where the top was barely noticeable, or so I had assured myself when I had one last qualm before I left the flat. Then, of course, I had bumped into Brody in the hall and his appreciative wolf whistle nearly sent me back inside to change. I might have, had I not needed to get to work early. There was also the fact that I was basically more interested in the Cheyenne Skinner case than in what I chose to wear to work on it, even if I had felt the need to make more of an effort than normal. I was pretty sure my colleagues would feel the same way.
Sure, but wrong. The first person I met was Liv Bowen, who raised her eyebrows. ‘Looking good. Where are we off to today?’
‘Interviews.’
‘That can’t be for Belcott’s benefit.’ She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes, assessing me. ‘Hmm. When you came in, you looked over there, didn’t you? That’s Rob’s desk. He’s not in yet.’
‘So I see.’ I dumped my bag on my seat. ‘If I tell you I’m impressed with the Grand Inquisitor act, will you drop it?’
‘Maybe.’ She looked back at Rob’s empty chair. ‘God, it’d be a shame if he missed seeing you. You’ve got your hair done and everything. I wonder where he is.’
Wrapped around a red-haired solicitor, probably.
‘I have no idea,’ I said evenly. ‘And I’m not going to find out.’
‘Oh, that’s okay. I’ll text him.’ Before I could stop her, she’d whipped out her mobile phone and sent a message.
‘Thank you, Liv. Very helpful.’ I tweaked the neckline of my top so there was very definitely no cleavage on display and went to knock on Godley’s door. He was sitting at his desk, looking as if he had been there for a couple of hours already.
‘Maeve. Come in. I like the hair.’
‘Er, thanks.’ I was totally wrong-footed. ‘I was wondering where you wanted me to start today.’
‘Josh is spending the morning doing interviews. You should go along.’
It was always Derwent, I thought with an internal sigh. I made myself look cheerful and alert. ‘Who are we seeing?’
‘We’ve been appealing for people who were at the club to
come forward and we’ve managed to trace almost a hundred – some who volunteered they were there, others who were pointed out to us by the more helpful club-goers. There are a few with criminal records. They need talking to. Josh has lined up an interview with one of them.’
‘What about William Forgrave?’
‘What about him?’
‘His MO when he was an active paedophile matches the way Cheyenne was targeted.’ I felt suddenly unsure of myself. ‘Didn’t DI Derwent say?’
‘He did. And I’ve put DS Mortimer in charge of finding out what Forgrave has been up to – if anything – since his release from prison.’ The cutting edge as exemplified by Morty was not impressive. Something of what I was feeling must have shown on my face because the superintendent smiled. ‘Don’t worry. Bryce is keeping a close eye on him.’
‘I’m sure they’re doing a great job.’
‘Mm. Well, you concentrate on your bit and I’ll let you know what happens with Forgrave.’ Godley paused. ‘You didn’t like him, did you?’
‘He unnerved me.’
‘Josh said the same.’
‘Did he? He didn’t seem to be unnerved.’
‘He hides it well. And speaking of hiding things, the first thing on the list is to swing by the offices of the nightclub’s organisers.’
‘The Brothers Grim. I can hardly wait.’
‘I want to get a copy of their mailing list. It’s not in the material Marla Redmond sent over yesterday evening. I haven’t been able to get hold of her this morning, but I suspect that means they didn’t get it. I imagine the organisers want to keep it out of our hands, but I’m not inclined to give them a choice about it.’
‘Okay. I’ll be persuasive.’
‘Even demanding, if need be.’ He raised one eyebrow.
‘I might leave that up to DI Derwent.’
‘Very wise. He likes that sort of thing. When you get the list, email it to Colin Vale. He’s going to convince their ISPs into giving us bricks-and-mortar addresses. I’m tired of waiting for people to volunteer to help us out. I want to know who was there and what they saw, and if we have to track them down and sit on them until they cooperate, that’s fine by me.’
