Throwaways (Crime Files Book 2)

by Jenny Thomson

  “We’re not sure,” Tommy said. “Tanya didn’t have the best start in life. You probably read about that?”

  Little had been written about Tanya Baker in the papers, except for the sorry tale of how she’d ended up as a throwaway child. Of all the throwaways—one newspaper reporter, who I wanted to slap, had coined that term for the women—she was the one they’d ignored.

  Sheena’s dad shook his head. “We’d never have one of those scurrilous rags in the house. They’re not fit to line a rabbit hutch.”

  Worried he’d ask some questions I couldn’t answer about my “cousin,” I jumped in with, “When did you last see Sheena?”

  Helen Andrews gazed down at her lap, tears glistening in her eyes, whilst her husband held his hands together like he’d caught a rare butterfly and didn’t want to release the creature. He’d let go of his wife’s hand, and I wondered if they were going to be one of those couples driven apart by loss.

  When she spoke, Helen Andrews’ voice surprised me. Despite her tears it was strong and controlled. “A few months ago, Sheena came here for dinner. She brought that man with her. James wouldn’t have him in my house. He said he was poison.” She gave her husband a stony gaze. She obviously hadn’t forgiven him for costing her the chance to say good-bye to her daughter—or at least that’s how she saw it.

  “What about on the phone?”

  “I spoke to her a week before she was last seen; before we went on holiday. She was talking about going to college and changing her life. I said I’d help her once we got back.” She shot her husband another sharp look that could have seared his flesh. “I didn’t want to go on that cruise, but James insisted. There were business associates of his coming along with their partners.” She gazed over at the photograph of Sheena. “If only I hadn’t gone…”

  With her words of resentment ringing in our ears, we made our excuses and left, promising to tell them whatever we discovered.

  Walking down the long driveway, past the rosebushes in full bloom, I couldn’t help thinking that despite the couple’s their wealth nothing had protected them from the bad stuff. In that way they were the same as the rest of us, only in fancier clothes.

  As we drove off, Tommy’s words echoed my thoughts. “Do you think this Fredericks woman really did abuse Sheena, or is there more chance that the girl had a schoolgirl crush on her teacher and Fredericks rebuffed her advances?”

  “You think she lied about the abuse to get revenge?” I found that difficult to believe.

  “I don’t know,” Tommy said. “I’ve never been a teenage girl. But whatever did happen, having your career ruined is a pretty good motive for murder.”

  But I wasn’t buying it. “Why would this teacher kill Suzy Henderson? Sheena Andrews’s finger was in Suzy Henderson’s stomach. The only way it could have got there was if whoever took Sheena also took Suzy.”

  Tommy bashed his fist against the dashboard. “Damn, I forgot about that.”

  “I can see Fredericks killing Sheena in an act of revenge, even although the damage was already done, but why would she kill Suzy Henderson? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “You’re right,” Tommy said.

  We both agreed that we needed to meet this Fredericks woman.

  Chapter 5

  Fredericks wasn’t a common name in Scotland, and when we’d Googled it, a profile came up that showed she worked as an art teacher at tough Saughton Prison in Edinburgh. When we’d called her and Tommy put her on speaker phone, her voice had remained level even when we’d mentioned Sheena. She agreed to see us.

  At the prison, we had to go through scanners, then we were searched and made to put our possessions, including mobile phones and chewing gum—apparently prisoners can use it to make an imprint of keys—in a locker. Everyone who entered the jail had to do this, including staff. I’d visited my brother Shug in prison so many times that I was used to this ritual. Tommy was unperturbed as a beefy prison guard patted him down.

  “I don’t like to say this,” chirped the skinny, tall man who took over and briskly led us through the security gates, “but it’s the folk who work here who are just as likely to bring in contraband as prisoners’ relatives. Sometimes they’re under duress. Other times they’re doing it just for the money. Reflects badly on the rest of us, I can tell you.”

  Marie Fredericks was not what I’d expected. Since she’d worked at an exclusive girls’ school, I’d expected a prim librarian type in a twinset or a New Ager in a sunflower smock with beaded hair. Instead we got America’s Next Top Model. Marie Fredericks was supermodel tall and had long, curly chestnut hair and a smile that exposed perfect white teeth that I bet came courtesy of some expensive orthodontics. Her online profile said she was forty-two, but she could have passed for thirty. I hated her on sight, from the toes of her Louboutins the tips of her effortless curls, although I had to admit that if a schoolgirl was going to have a crush on a teacher, it would probably be the fragrant Fredericks. Tommy was transfixed by her—maybe from the novelty of watching a real lady in action—but a swift boot to the heel soon brought him to his senses.

  Fredericks suggested we go the canteen so we’d be more comfortable. I’d have been more comfortable had she been as ugly as sin with huge facial warts and a great big hump on her back.

  The canteen was empty but for two men behind the counter. They both looked like civilians, but I knew that some prisoners were allowed to wear their own clothes. Fredericks flashed them a smile, and one of them winked at her. She didn’t so much sit down as arrange herself in a chair. Before we’d even asked her about her relationship with Sheena, she’d started talking about her former pupil.

  She had a husky voice like Marlene Dietrich—my guess was it came courtesy of Marlboro. “Sheena was a wonderful girl: bright, intelligent, and unlike so many of my other pupils, she knew what she wanted to do with her life. She wanted to go to art school in Paris and to open her own gallery one day.”

  So far, all she’d talked about was how wonderful Sheena was as she’d nibbled delicately at the corners of a rich tea biscuit and daintily sipped her chamomile tea—she’d produced a teabag from her handbag and asked for a cup of boiling water.

  More time-wasting platitudes about what a dream Sheena was to teach followed, so I threw in a hand grenade. “You were accused of having an inappropriate relationship with Sheena and sacked. Can you tell us about that?”

  Fredericks raised an eyebrow—perfectly arched of course. “Sheena had feelings for me. I didn’t handle it well.”

  No shit. That’s why she was here working with killers, rapists, and granny muggers.

  I wasn’t done. “You abused your position of trust, to have a relationship with a pupil.”

  Fredericks’s face twitched. At last a chink in her ice-cool demeanor. “Sheena did all the running—buying me flowers, sending me poetry books with verses marked. I didn’t even think I was interested in women. I’ve been happily married for thirteen years.”

  She fingered the diamond ring she had to prove it. The rock was huge, and I was surprised she was allowed to wear it at the prison with so many thieves around. I wondered if she was still married, or had she kept the ring to show off? If I’d had a rich husband, I wouldn’t have been caught dead working here.

  For the first time, she looked earnest. “I know what you’re thinking. I’d be thinking it too. A teacher seducing a teenager seems more likely than teenage girl seduces teacher.”

  It was Tommy’s time to play good cop. As I’d interrogated Fredericks, he’d sat there

  impassive. “When she made the accusations, did you speak to Sheena about what she’d said about you?” He leaned in closer, as if to show her this conversation was between him and her and I didn’t exist. “If you thought your actions had been misconstrued, you would have tried to talk to her. It’s understandable. I know I would have if I’d been in your situation.”

  “No,” Fredericks said. “I never got the chance. They weren’t intere
sted in my side of the story. I was told to empty my desk and was escorted off the school grounds by security. It was humiliating.” She made a little sigh, and her lips quivered, but not enough to give her frown lines. “I loved that job.”

  “Did you have any contact with Sheena after you were fired?” I asked.

  Fredericks shook her head, making her perfect curls bounce. “No, I never saw or heard from her again, and I was glad. She almost ruined my marriage. My husband found one of her letters. She made it sound like we were together. As though we were going to elope.”

  Grudgingly, I believed her. There was no indication she was lying.

  Tommy and I swapped glances. Maybe angry at his wife’s “affair,” Mr. Fredericks had gone after Sheena? Things could have got out of hand and she’d ended up dead. I made a mental note to check out the husband, although the chances of him being involved were slim because then he’d also have had to have involved in Suzy Henderson’s death.

  “Look,” Fredericks said, flashing her doe eyes. “I’m not comfortable about discussing this with strangers. I also fail to see how this will help you find your cousin.”

  For the first time, I smiled at her. “Thanks, you’ve been really helpful, but I think you could be right. I don’t think you can help us. Thanks for your time.”

  ***

  Before we went to see Sheena’s best friend Donna Di Marco—we’d got her name from Sheena’s parents—we decided to stop off for something to eat. Whilst I stood in line, Tommy went outside to phone his police pal to ask him if they knew anything about Fredericks’s husband.

  Our order was ready by the time he got back. “It’s a dead end,” he said. “Marie Fredericks is married to an Arthur Schubert. He’s stinking rich, thirty years her senior. Oh, and he’s been in a wheelchair for three years ever since he broke his spine in two places in a skiing accident.”

  Damn. Unless he was faking it or had an Iron Man suit he put on, there was no chance he was our man.

  Chapter 6

  Donna Di Marco had feline green eyes accentuated by thick black eyeliner, olive skin, and said “you know” a lot as she popped bubblegum. She was also sulky and sullen and largely unhelpful—a bit like I was when I was a teenager. Not even Tommy could work his charms on her. Not that that stopped him from trying. In the end, though, I reminded him about an “appointment” he had so he’d take the hint and leave us alone for some girl talk. But we didn’t get to be alone. Donna’s mum insisted upon sitting on the sofa beside her daughter to offer her “some support.”

  As I sat there listening to Donna chewing away, I couldn’t help thinking the only support the huffy, overgrown child needed was a good slap. Her friend was missing; she should have been pulling out all the stops to help find her instead of being an evasive little bitch.

  “We’re happy to help, aren’t we, Donna?” Mrs. Di Marco said. She was a trim brunette in her forties with a pleasant voice. “Anything that helps to find the monster who took poor Sheena has got to be a good thing. But I’d like to be here in case Donna needs me. She’s been so upset. Since, well, you know.”

  She patted her daughter’s hand, but Donna was too busy fiddling with the buttons on her phone to acknowledge her mum. She was probably tweeting. Her teenage apathy wasn’t just reserved for me, and I pitied her mother. How did she manage to maintain a sunny disposition with Little Miss Moody around? She must have been popping happy pills.

  With her mum in the room we were getting nowhere, so I was relieved when after five minutes of small talk, she finally went into the kitchen to make some tea.

  From my comfy chair, I leaned in towards Donna, lowering my voice to make sure her mum couldn’t hear. “Now it’s just you and me, Donna, can you tell me what happened between Sheena and your teacher Mrs. Fredericks?”

  Donna twirled a strand of her long brown hair around one of her fingers and avoided my gaze. “You know, it was all like Sheena told her folks. Freaky Fredericks made a move on her. She used to eye up all the girls. Lesbo bitch.”

  For the first time, I felt sorry for Fredericks for having Donna in her class, stirring things.

  “Did Fredericks ever threaten Sheena after people found out?”

  Donna rolled her eyes. “Nah. It was Dr. Cassidy the freak blamed. Sheena said Freaky told her the doctor shouldn’t have made her feel dirty for having feelings for her. She said lots of people have crushes on their teachers and that there’s nothing wrong with it.”

  “Donna, we spoke to Marie Fredericks, and she claimed Sheena did all the running. Is that true?”

  The schoolgirl looked furtively at her nails. Then she gave an embarrassed giggle. “It was only supposed to be a joke.”

  “What was?”

  “On Freaky Fredericks. She was always flirting with the other teachers and trying so hard to be everyone’s friend. So me and Sheena started to send her love notes, underline lines in love poems, leave her presents. We wanted her to think she had a secret admirer.”

  I didn’t get it. “Why would you do that?”

  “For a laugh, of course.” She eyed me as though I was an idiot and she was Einstein. “Eventually we were gonna arrange a meeting, a secret rendezvous, and we’d hide and film it on our phones as she turned up to meet her admirer. Only there’d be a Sucker banner.”

  I couldn’t believe anyone could be so cruel, and I told her so.

  Donna didn’t have the decency to look ashamed. “What I didn’t know was the freak had caught Sheena slipping one of our notes into her handbag and as a punishment she’d made her tidy up the art room. That’s when Sheena and her started to, well, you know.” She made a face.

  So they did have a relationship.

  “And it was all consensual?” I said. Donna looked confused, so I added, “Did Mrs. Fredericks make Sheena do anything she didn’t want to?”

  Donna shook her head.

  “How did Sheena end up working on the streets, Donna?”

  “I dunno.” Her body stiffened; she was lying.

  “Come on, Donna, there’s got to be a reason. I’ve seen where she lives. I know her parents are loaded.”

  She looked down at her lap. “She needed money. She met this guy called Jake. He was a lot of fun, always partying. He was good-looking too. She was hurting after Freaky Fredericks stopped answering her calls. Jake started asking her for money so he could buy coke.”

  Sheena’s story was starting to fall along similar lines. So many women were pimped out by their partners. “At first she got money from her parents, but they stopped giving her any when they found out she was shacked up with him. Jake said he’d this good-looking pal who’d pay Sheena fifty quid if she was nice to him, got dolled up. He said if she did that, he wouldn’t have to move back to Aberdeen so he could get money from his gran.”

  Christ, this guy was a right piece of work who got the death he deserved. Everybody but Sheena could tell where the story ended: with Sheena selling her body on the streets to pay for his drugs. But, as vile as he was, he was long dead by the time Sheena was grabbed.

  “Was there anyone Sheena met that she was afraid of? Someone the other girls might have mentioned?”

  From the cases I’d read, I knew that prostitutes were usually killed by people they knew: punters and even their own boyfriends or husbands.

  Donna stared off into the distance.

  “Someone out of place, weird?” I leaned in closer so I was almost in her face. “Sheena’s missing and there’s still a chance she’s alive. But she might not stay alive if you mess me about.” Then I added for effect, “And my cousin might not be, either.”

  No reaction. Still playing dumb.

  “If you know anything, you need to tell me now. You’re not helping Sheena by holding anything back.” A pause. “If you’re really Sheena’s friend, you’ll help me. Tell me everything you know.”

  For the first time Donna was rattled and the spell was broken. Then her mum called through from the kitchen that she’d be in soon a
nd was buttering some scones.

  “I don’t need to tell you anything, you know.” There was that phrase again; it made me want to reach over and slap her. That’d go down well with her ma.

  Forcing myself to rein in my inner psycho, I spoke calmly. “You’re right, Donna. You don’t have to tell me a thing. And before you say it, I know I’m not the police. But I’ll tell you this. If Sheena is still alive, and you didn’t tell me something that could have saved her, you will regret it for the rest of your life.” Pausing to let my words sink in, I added, “I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want that on my conscience. How about you?”

  At last I got a reaction. Donna blinked and her lips crumpled. “I...”

  She’d only got the word out when her mum appeared in the doorway carrying a tray. Donna shut up faster than a miser’s purse. As hospitable as Mrs. Di Marco was, at that moment I could have throttled the woman.

  Without even looking my way, Donna sniffed, “I don’t want to speak to you anymore,” as she wiped an imaginary tear from her eye with the knuckles of one hand.

  Her mum’s smile dimmed. “I’m sorry, but I think you should leave. Donna’s too upset to carry on. This has been so hard on her.”

  Putting the card with my phone number on it down on the coffee table, I addressed them both. “If there’s anything you do remember, Donna, please call me. I really want to find out what happened to my cousin and to Sheena.” Then meeting Mrs. Di Marco’s gaze, I smiled and thanked her for her hospitality and told her I’d see myself out.

  As I headed out the door, I heard Donna’s mum say, “Are you sure you couldn’t tell that nice woman something? I know you’re upset, but she must be distraught.”

  Donna’s voice was shrill. “Mum, why would I lie? Sheena’s my best pal.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?” her mum said. And I had to agree. Sheena’s pal was definitely hiding something. The question was, what?