by Celina Grace
She drew Bill and his colleague aside. “What does it look like to you?” she murmured.
Bill looked surprised she’d even asked. “Overdose. The pill bottles are over there.”
Kate looked where he was pointing. She could see the dark brown plastic of two or three chemists’ bottles lying underneath the bench, their white lids lying next to them. All empty. “Right,” she said, feeling a hollowness in her chest.
There were ringing footsteps approaching down the corridor and Kate turned, feeling a leap of gladness when she realised Olbeck and Anderton had arrived. They were grim-faced, raising a hand but not a smile in greeting.
Both of them stood and looked at the body in silence for a moment. Kate and Bill both put forward what they knew.
At last Anderton spoke. “Who is she?” He glanced around, his gaze falling on the teacher. “Anyone know?”
Zac Downey spoke up, his voice hoarse. “Her name’s Veronica Stemmick. She’s seventeen, she’s in her first year here.” He shuddered and fell silent again, his head dropping forward.
“Right,” said Anderton. He gave Zac Downey a thoughtful glance and then turned his gaze back to the victim. “Well, if there’s nothing to be done, we need to clear out and let SOCO get to work. They’re on their way. Mister Downey, perhaps you could come with us for a moment?” Zac nodded, looking as though it pained him to do so. “I’d better inform Doctor Hindmarsh, unless you’ve already done that?”
Zac shook his head again. After a moment he said in a husky voice, “No. No, I haven’t called anybody.”
“Right, well, we can do that. No problem. If you come this way...”
The shocked teacher was gently steered towards an empty classroom. Olbeck and Kate conferred in low voices as they regarded the victim, whilst the paramedics began to pack up their equipment.
“Another suicide?” Olbeck asked, in a voice that suggested he wasn’t even asking a question.
“Bill seems to think so, and I can’t see anything that contradicts that.”
“God,” said Olbeck with a sigh in his voice.
“I know,” said Kate. She turned to see where Anderton and Zac had gone and decided to follow them, leaving Olbeck to guard the pathetic little bundle on the floor.
She didn’t knock on the partially closed door but just entered, quietly she thought, but Zac still jumped.
“Take it easy, Mister Downey,” Anderton said, reasonably sympathetically.
Zac nodded. Kate could see him making a visible effort to pull himself together.
“Could you just take us through what happened tonight, in your own time?” Anderton asked, propping himself against a desk. Whilst in the office, he was unable to stand still during a debrief, Kate knew that in an interview he could be as silent and as still as the best of them. Whatever it took to get the information he needed. She leant back against another desk, just as silently.
Zac swallowed. “I was working late – I normally do work late, when I’ve got a heap of marking to do – and I was just coming through to the staff room to get a couple of things when – when I saw her.”
“What time was this?” asked Anderton.
“I guess it must have been – it must have been after eight. It was almost dark, I remember that, because I had to put the light on when I got here. Otherwise – God, I might not have noticed her.”
“So you came – which way?”
“From the drama department, down the usual footpath.” Zac gestured with a shaky hand. “The staffroom’s just down there.”
“So what made you glance this way? It’s the opposite direction to where you were going?”
“I don’t know,” Zac said simply. “I put my hand out for the light and maybe I – maybe I sensed something was wrong, or saw something in my peripheral vision. I can’t say. I just know I snapped the light on and I saw her immediately.”
“What did you do then?”
Zac closed his eyes, swallowed, and then opened them again. “I – I must have shouted out, I think, or gasped and I ran – ran over to her and I... I don’t know...”
“Did you touch the body?”
Zac nodded. “I know I shouldn’t have done, but I thought... I didn’t know whether she was alive or dead then and I thought – thought perhaps I could save her...” His voice trailed off. “I couldn’t save her,” he whispered.
Kate broke in, as gently as she could. “You couldn’t have done anything, Mister Downey. She’d been dead for a couple of hours.”
Zac nodded, painfully. “I guess I knew that, as soon as I touched her. She was...cold.” He looked at Anderton. “I felt her neck—” He raised his own hands to his neck, as if to demonstrate. “But I couldn’t find a pulse and she was so cold...”
Anderton broke the silence that followed. “What did you do then?”
“I called nine-one-one.” The slip betrayed his American origins and, after a moment, he said, stuttering, “I meant nine-nine-nine. The emergency number, I asked for an ambulance.”
“And then what?”
Zac looked confused. “How do you mean?”
“What did you do after you’d called the ambulance?”
“You called me,” Kate said and watched Anderton’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Yeah, I guess I must’ve called you then. It’s hard to remember. I know I didn’t call anyone else.”
“Why call Detective Sergeant Redman?” asked Anderton in a deceptively casual voice. “Why her in particular?”
Zac reddened a little. “We’d been talking that morning, about Claire Collins. Her number was the first one I saw on my phone and I thought, well, she’s been on the other cases... I kind of don’t know why I called you,” he said directly to Kate. “I was kind of panicking by then.”
Anderton and Kate said nothing for a moment. Then, as if dismissing the subject, Anderton asked, “You could identify the student, couldn’t you? Veronica...?”
“Veronica Stemmick,” Zac said in a low voice.
“Have you taught her?”
“Oh, sure. I’ve taught most of the students here.”
“Did you know her well?”
Zac eyed him, clearly unsure of how to take Anderton’s mild tone. “Well? Kind of as well as any of them. She wasn’t in my form.”
“Do you have any idea why she might have done this?”
Zac shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about that and I can’t – I can’t think of any reason why, not that I’m aware of.”
“Did she have a boyfriend that you knew of?”
“No, I don’t know.”
“What about friends? Could you name her friends?”
Zac’s foil blanket slipped down a little, rustling, and he hauled it back into place around his shoulders. “I don’t know. She did used to hang around with Kaya Trent for a bit, at least I used to see them together round the campus.” He cleared his throat. “Her form tutor’s Mary Mackintosh, if you need to see her.”
Kate noted the name down as well as writing Kaya Trent with a question mark beside the name. Out in the corridor, the noise level swelled as the Scene of Crime Officers arrived and began their work.
“Well, thanks for your time, Mister Downey,” Anderton said eventually, pushing himself up from the edge of the desk. “You’ll have to give a statement again, I’m afraid, but that can wait until morning. I would guess the college will be closed tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Anderton looked over at Kate with an unreadable expression. “Perhaps you can organise a time with Mister Downey, for him to come to the station tomorrow. Seeing as you have each other’s contact details already.”
What the hell? Kate wondered if she’d imagined the snide undertone to those words. “Of course, sir,” she said crisply, doing her best to sound utterly neutral.
Anderton nodded and left the room. Kate looked hard at his departing back, wondering whether she was imaging the peculiar emphasis with which Anderton had imbued his
last sentence. Then she turned to the still-shivering teacher. “Do you need someone to help you home, Mister Downey?”
Zac stood up, a little shakily. “No, I’m okay.”
“I’ll be in contact regarding your statement.”
“Okay. Sure.”
He still sounded like he was in deep shock. Kate said goodbye and hurried back out into the corridor.
Anderton and Olbeck were conferring quietly as the white-coated technicians bent to their task around them.
“Someone will need to stay,” Anderton said. “Just in case. I’m sure it’s nothing more than another suicide but...just in case.”
There was a moment’s silence. Kate was aware of the grumbling of her empty stomach, the ache in her back, the soiled clothes that she was still wearing after her long day. She thought longingly of the hot bath that she’d promised herself, all those hours ago, and then felt guilty for being so aware of her physical discomforts while a teenage girl lay dead less than ten feet away. She opened her mouth to say ‘I’ll do it’, but Olbeck beat her to it.
“I’ll stay. It’s fine. Jeff’s out tonight, anyway.”
Kate nearly hugged him in gratitude but settled for a heartfelt expression of thanks.
“Good,” said Anderton. “Keep me posted, but we’ll confer tomorrow. No doubt we’ll be back here, trying to sooth down the head.” He looked over at Kate. “Come on, Kate, I’ll walk you back to your car.”
They said goodbye to Olbeck and set off for the car park, walking in silence along the winding footpaths through the darkened buildings. The wind had got up since Kate had arrived, and last year’s remaining dead leaves were occasionally whirled into their faces. The tree branches above them thrashed and shook.
“God, I’m starving,” Anderton said, as they got to their respective vehicles. “Fancy getting something to eat?”
Kate said yes straight away, without even thinking about, almost as if the words had been whipped out of her by the wind. “Whereabouts?”
Anderton looked at his watch. “Finding somewhere that’s open could be a problem. It’s nearly eleven.” Something seemed to occur to him. “Hold on, I know where we can go. Follow me, we’re heading for the centre of Abbeyford, Castle Street.”
As they drove off, Anderton leading and Kate following, she wondered where they were going and, more importantly, why had she been quite so eager to jump at the chance of a late-night meal with Anderton? I’m hungry, she told herself defensively, which was true, but...
Anderton’s choice of venue turned out to be a late-night members only bar, based on the top three floors of a Georgian townhouse, the ground level of which had been converted into an estate agents’ shop which, judging by the pictures of the houses for sale in the window as they passed it, catered for the top end of the real estate market. Kate hadn’t even known this place existed. Anderton signed them both in at the casually opulent reception area, low-lit, with a smiling, smooth-ponytailed, high-cheekboned girl to receive them.
“What is this place?” Kate asked as they climbed up the discreetly-lit marble staircase.
“Private members’ club,” said Anderton. Kate realised his hand was hovering at the small of her back as he piloted her through the first door on the landing. “My treat to myself on my fiftieth birthday.”
“Very nice,” said Kate, hoping she didn’t sound too sarcastic.
Anderton threw a quick glance at her. “Well, it’s a bit pretentious, maybe, but they do good food here up until midnight and some great cocktails.”
Kate wondered anxiously whether they’d be splitting the bill. Of course they would. This wasn’t a date, she chastised herself – trouble was, it was feeling increasingly like one, particularly when they came out into the main bar and restaurant area. Beautifully and tastefully decorated, the bar curved around the edge of the room in a long sweep of blonde wood. Tables for two were dotted here and there, candles twinkling from a silver holder in the centre of each. There were still a lot of people here: groups of men drinking at the bar, couples sat at the intimate little tables and on the plushy sofas that were grouped around the open fire at the back of the room. The contrast between this place and the last place Kate had been, made it seem even more incongruous and dreamlike.
Kate subsided into a very comfortable chair at one of the little tables, and Anderton dropped into one opposite her. “Know what you want to eat?” he asked.
Kate hadn’t even had a chance to glance at one of the tasteful little silver and white menus that lay before her. She picked it up, scanning the dishes. It all looked very appetising and expensive.
“Um,” she said faintly, trying to remember how much money she had left in her bank account. “I’m not sure—”
“I’ll get this,” Anderton said, as if he’d read her mind. Kate nodded and muttered her thanks, relieved but alarmed at the same time. This really was feeling more and more like a date.
Rather belatedly, Tin came into her head. She tried to conjure him up, tried to feel something towards him, but it was as though she were remembering a paper cut-out, not a real person.
A cocktail had somehow appeared in front of Kate. She had no idea what it was but picked it up carefully and took a grateful sip. The waiter came up to take their order and Anderton, who clearly knew him, rolled off a stream of dishes, more than it sounded as if they’d be able to eat in a week, let alone in a couple of hours.
“Cheers,” said Anderton, leaning forward to clink his glass against Kate’s. He did it gently but a few drops spilled from Kate’s glass onto the shiny surface of the table. “Oh, leave it,” said Anderton as Kate fished around in her bag for a tissue. “It’s not important. Just relax.”
Kate did obediently, leaning back into the softness of the chair. The warmth, the soporific effect of the flickering flames of the open fire, the alcohol and the faint but melodic sounds of the piano in the corner – actually being played by someone, Kate realised, not a recording – it all combined to make her feel so relaxed she’d have to watch that she didn’t fall asleep. She sat up straighter again, realising with a start that she’d almost finished her drink. Hastily, she put it down on the table.
“Want another?” asked Anderton.
“Not just yet,” Kate said. She could feel whatever alcohol had been in the drink warming her stomach. It felt as if it had gone directly to her bloodstream. She looked at Anderton in the candlelight, looked at his familiar face once more made desirable again, and felt a quake of something that was both fear and anticipation.
The food arrived and Kate ate as if in a dream. It was good; she could taste the quality, but it was as if it had been placed before her and then all of a sudden it was gone, much like the second drink that also seemed to materialise before her. I mustn’t drink any more, I won’t be able to drive home, she thought woozily. I guess I can always leave the car here and walk...
Anderton was talking about the upcoming Police Charity Ball, an annual event that was held to raise money for various causes connected with the force. Kate listened with half an ear, her mind on other things, so much so that she could feel a question rising to her lips and opened her mouth without so much as engaging her brain.
“What happened to that lawyer?” blurted Kate.
Anderton raised his eyebrows. “What lawyer?”
Kate fought back a blush. What was the matter with her? “That – the lawyer you were seeing. That blonde one.” She heard the words coming out of her mouth with something like incredulity but couldn’t seem to be able to take them back in time.
Anderton’s eyebrows were still raised. “Oh, Caroline? Oh, that’s old history by now, I’m afraid. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering,” Kate said, glad of the cover of the dim light to hide her glowing cheeks.
Anderton leant his chin on his hand. “She was a lovely woman. Very clever, very intelligent. Ran rings around me, intellectually.” Kate was now exceedingly sorry she’d started this. “Very beautiful as well.
Financially independent. Ticked all the boxes, you might say.” He was quiet for a moment. “Oh well, these things happen.”
“So what did happen? Why did you split up?” In for a penny, in for a pound, Kate.
Anderton stared into the flickering candle. Kate could see the dancing reflection of the flame in the centre of his grey eyes. “Blimey. Well, if you really want to know...” He looked up, perhaps expecting Kate to demur but she stared boldly back at him so he shrugged and went on. “She wanted more from me than I could give. The old stuff, marriage, children... She wanted that, and I couldn’t give that to her, I’m afraid.”
There was a short silence. Kate looked down at the candle herself, trying to disguise the stab of disappointment that had jabbed her in the stomach at Anderton’s words. What does it matter to you, she hissed at herself mentally. It shouldn’t matter to you in the slightest.
She became aware that Anderton was still speaking.
“What was that?” she asked.
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, don’t end up like me, Kate. Divorced, weighed down with baggage, with kids who barely know you – or worse, no kids at all.”
“What makes you think I will?” asked Kate, not even bothering to hide the anger in her tone.
Anderton said nothing but he met her eye across the table. For a long moment, they looked at each other, everything unsaid churning away beneath the silence, until Kate broke it, shoving her chair back from the table and getting up.
“I’m going,” she said shortly. “Thanks for the food and the drinks.”
“Now don’t go flouncing off,” Anderton said, attempting a placatory tone. There was something underneath it still, something that set Kate’s teeth on edge. Some strong undercurrent of emotion. Was it anger? Resentment? Or something else?
She muttered a goodbye and got up, not looking behind her as she weaved her way through the tables to the door. She could hear Anderton getting up behind her, the scrape of his chair as it pushed back from the table. Kate sped up a little and got the strap of her bag tangled on the back of someone else’s chair. As she extracted herself, with flustered apologies, Anderton reached her side and steered her into the lobby.
