Dead Time

by Anne Cassidy

  ‘She hit me. She kept hitting me and I just lost control.’

  ‘So it was self-defence?’ Henry said. ‘You need to come down to the station so we can talk about this officially. If it was self-defence, then there’s a good chance that you will be treated leniently.’

  ‘It wasn’t self-defence! She texted Emma on a mystery phone. She had a knife on her. Who goes to meet people with a knife in their pocket?’ Rose said.

  Sherry wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

  ‘That’s what you’ll never get, people like you. You come from a posh house and a boarding school. You don’t know what it’s like living here all your life. I carry a knife. Loads of kids carry knives. While you’re carrying your violin or your laptop, some of us are carrying knives.’

  Rose didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Let’s go to the station. It’ll be good to get this stuff off your chest.’

  Henry was standing up.

  ‘She’s lying, ‘Rose said, incredulous. ‘She planned it. That’s why she called Emma there early. She killed her and wanted it to seem as if Lewis or Bee Bee had done it.’

  Henry led Rose out of the living-room door. He was holding her arm too tightly and she tried to break free.

  ‘Give me Emma’s mobile.’

  She gave it to him.

  ‘I want you to go away now, Rose. I’ll be speaking to you later tonight or tomorrow. You leave the bangles and you go home.’

  ‘She planned it!’ Rose said, tearing the bangles off her wrist and dropping them on to the hall table. ‘Why would she dress up in black clothes and a hoodie and wear boots and bangles like Bee Bee’s if she wasn’t planning it in advance! Trying to put the blame on someone else …’ Rose demanded.

  ‘We’ll never know, Rose,’ Henry said, pushing her backwards up the hall, his voice dropping to a whisper. ‘Because you have contaminated the evidence.’

  ‘But what about Ricky! She could have killed Ricky too!’

  ‘Leave it to the police, Rose.’

  Rose stopped at the door. Henry opened it and she went out. He closed it behind her. Tears came into her eyes and she let them. This week everything seemed to have gone wrong.

  Even this.

  But at least now Emma’s family would know the truth.

  Much good it would do them.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  It was Saturday morning and Rose was sitting on her own in the Dark Brew. In front of her was a cup of black coffee. It was stronger than she liked it but she sipped it anyway. Joshua was due to meet her at eleven. She had her coat on the seat opposite, saving it for him. The cafe was busy, though, and a couple of people had asked for the chair and she had said it was taken.

  She was still reeling from her appointment with Detective Inspector Schillings at the police station. She stared straight ahead at the other people in the cafe and remembered the interview and the way she had been spoken to.

  ‘Are you aware, Miss Rose Smith, that you could be charged with perverting the course of justice? What were you thinking of? I understood you were an intelligent girl. This is not intelligent. This smacks of complete and utter stupidity.’

  Her cheeks burned thinking about it. When a woman quietly asked if the seat opposite was taken, she snapped at her.

  ‘Yes! My friend is in the toilet!’

  Where was Joshua? She’d said eleven and now it was ten past. She had virtually run all the way from the police station to get here on time and there was no sign of him. She’d not actually spoken to him when making the arrangement. The truth was she hadn’t spoken to him at all since Tuesday afternoon when they got back from the B and B.

  She’d hoped that today they could get back to normal.

  Her interview with Inspector Schillings had upset her, though.

  Henry Thompson had been to see her on Friday and informed her about the appointment with the Detective Inspector. After the commotion about Sherry Baxter’s arrest had died down, he had called at her grandmother’s and told her that she had to see DI Schillings at Parkway police station at ten on Saturday morning. He’d been cold and distant and said that there were issues to discuss and told her to be polite and conciliatory. He did not warn her about the ticking-off she was going to get. No doubt that had been on purpose. If she’d known she might not have gone.

  Neither did he mention her coming to his club again.

  Maybe he’d washed his hands of her.

  Arriving at the station she’d smiled at Detective Inspector Schillings, a little nervous, aware that she was in trouble because of the contamination of the evidence. He had shown her into a small interview room in the police station. He had not asked her to sit down. He had not offered her a drink. He’d hardly made eye contact with her at all. His annoyance was clear from the slow inhalation of breath he took before blasting her with his words.

  ‘We are dealing with the investigation of a girl’s murder here. A heinous crime. This is no time for a jumped-up Nancy Drew to go around trying to solve the crime herself. What were you thinking of, young lady? Are you aware that we could charge you? That you may have compromised the whole investigation?’

  Her throat tensed at the memory. Jumped-up Nancy Drew.

  How dare he speak to her like that?

  She’d gone there expecting grief but among it all she’d thought that there might have been a single comment congratulating her for working out the identity of the person who sent the text to Emma. Instead she’d been shamed. When he had finished Detective Inspector Schillings stood up and turned his back to her.

  ‘You may leave now, Miss Smith and I do not wish to see you in this establishment again.’

  Leaving the interview room she’d almost bumped into Henry. He was standing talking to another police officer, looking at some papers. She didn’t want to face him though, not after being humiliated by Schillings. She walked quietly along the corridor back the way she came, pausing at the locked door for someone to let her out. She didn’t want to see any police officer ever again. Walking out on to the street she found herself taking a deep breath, her shoulders and arms tight with tension.

  How dare he speak to her as if she was ten years old?

  The cafe was filling up and it was becoming more difficult to save the seat for Joshua. She was on the brink of plucking her coat off it when the street door opened and he walked in, followed by Skeggsie. Her mood dipped even more. He hadn’t come alone. Just then the people from the next table got up to leave and Skeggsie grabbed one of their chairs and pulled it over to Rose’s table, oblivious to the leaden stares he was getting from other people in the cafe.

  ‘Coffee? Skeggsie? Bun? Rose?’

  Rose looked straight at Joshua. She searched his face to see if there was any change there, as if somehow on Tuesday, even though his eyes had been closed, he had known that something odd was happening between them.

  ‘Rose? Do you want anything?’ he said.

  She shook her head as he went up to the counter. She eyed him standing in the queue. He didn’t look round at her. It gave her a heaviness in her chest.

  They’d been in touch via emails. On Wednesday she’d emailed him (adding Skeggsie’s name) and told him all about the events at the memorial and how she had worked out what Sherry Baxter had done. A number of emails followed where she explained what she thought had happened, leaving out the problems with the evidence and Henry’s annoyance with her. He’d been amazed with her and even Skeggsie had sent his congratulations.

  If either of them had seen her with Inspector Schillings they might not have been so happy about it.

  Joshua sat down with the drinks.

  ‘Well done, Rose,’ Joshua said. ‘You persevered. You stuck with it and you got a good result. It’s made me think about Dad and Kathy. I admit I was upset on Tuesday …’

  Rose looked down at the table, using her finger to rub at a mark on the surface.

  ‘I’ve decided to continue with the search. Skeggsie and I are going t
o Twickenham today. We’re meeting Amanda and the owner of the B and B. She’s agreed to talk to us.’

  She looked at him with dismay. He was still continuing the search? After what they’d found out? After how upset he’d been?

  ‘It would be mad not to follow it up,’ he said, as if reading her thoughts.

  She nodded in a forced genial way. Joshua and Skeggsie were going to Twickenham. There didn’t even seem to be an invite for her. She drank some of her bitter coffee. It was almost cold but she didn’t care. Joshua was not including her.

  Her phone beeped and she looked down to see that she had a text from Henry.

  ‘I’ll just get this,’ she said.

  Joshua and Skeggsie carried on talking as she accessed the message.

  Where are you? I’m on the High Street near Parkway East.

  Henry was looking for her. Across the table she saw Joshua and Skeggsie making their plans for the day, their chairs turned in towards each other, excluding her.

  Another beep came.

  I need to talk to you!

  Henry was bothered about her. It touched her. She sent a text back to him.

  In the Dark Brew opp station.

  He replied immediately. Meet me outside.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, interrupting Joshua and Skeggsie. ‘That was my policeman friend. He wants to see me. I won’t be a minute.’

  He was outside the cafe. He looked tired but he smiled at her. There was a police car across the road, the window open, another officer in the driving seat. It was parked beside a tall lamp post on top of which was a camera. She frowned at it, remembering the CCTV photos. She had almost revealed their existence to Henry when she told Sherry that she’d dug up Emma’s phone. Henry had quizzed her on that when he came round to Anna’s and she explained to him, in desperation, that she hadn’t actually ‘dug up’ the phone, but that she’d been speaking metaphorically. Thank goodness he believed her and no one knew about the images. Detective Inspector Schillings’ face came into her head. It was hard to imagine it but the interview could have been worse, much worse.

  There were people milling past and Henry took her arm and led her to a small alley between two shops.

  ‘The DI gave you a bad time, I heard,’ he said.

  She shrugged.

  ‘I had to tell him, Rose. It all had to come out.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You angry?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘These things always come out.’

  ‘I was trying to help. No one else seemed to be doing anything.’

  ‘I can’t go through this whole argument with you again. I know you did it for the right reasons but it was the wrong thing to do. You do understand that.’

  ‘I understand,’ she said grudgingly.

  ‘This makes a first then. You agreeing with me.’

  ‘Don’t push your luck.’

  ‘Unofficially I thought you should know that Sherry Baxter has been charged with the manslaughter of Emma Burke. She’s due in court Monday morning. She’ll plead guilty, she says, and argue that the whole thing was an accident, a row that went wrong.’

  ‘And the clothes? And the notes she sent? And the text asking Emma to come early to the cemetery? All these things were accidents too?’

  ‘We don’t know what will happen in court. ‘

  Rose let out a dramatic sigh.

  ‘What about Ricky?’

  ‘Sherry had nothing to do with Ricky’s death. She was at her dad’s house in Brentwood. We checked it out. Her dad’s new partner agreed and there were neighbours that came in while she was there. I told you we are looking into a new line of enquiry. Ricky Harris was working with someone inside the school, nicking hardware and software. We’ve been investigating one of the IT technicians for a while. Turns out he was using a false name, false papers, false address.’

  ‘Who was it?’ Rose said.

  ‘A man called Frank Palmer. We wanted to question him but he hasn’t been seen around for a few days.’

  ‘I know him. He helped me in the IT suite,’ Rose said.

  It was the technician who had come to Ricky Harris’s memorial. He had been the victim of Ricky’s cruel taunts and once he had told Ricky off for harassing Rose. Could he have been stealing stuff from the school? Could he have links with Ricky Harris? Surely not. He seemed too nice. He’d spoken to her in the cafe one day and she’d seen him going into his house in Twickenham.

  ‘Well, he’s not what he seemed.’

  ‘I thought all employees had to have a CRB check?’

  ‘He did. The check was done. His papers were passed. It looks like someone has made a big mistake.’

  ‘So his name’s not Frank Palmer?’

  Henry shook his head.

  ‘And he might have stabbed Ricky?’

  ‘We don’t know that. It’s just something we’re looking into. At the moment we’re doing door to door in King’s Cross. Asking his neighbours about him. That’s what I’m doing today so I should be off.’

  ‘King’s Cross?’

  He nodded. ‘That’s where he lived.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘I just wanted to be sure that you were OK after DI Schillings spoke to you.’

  Rose looked away, her forehead scrunched up. King’s Cross?

  ‘Are you OK? You’ve been through a lot.’

  She nodded in a distracted way.

  ‘Now I’ve really got to get off.’

  She watched him go. He walked swiftly away and headed towards the squad car. He gave a half-wave as he got in. Did Frank Palmer live in King’s Cross? Surely she had seen him opening the front door of a house in Twickenham? The squad car drove off and she headed for the cafe.

  A jumped-up Nancy Drew.

  Let the police do their own investigations.

  Once inside the cafe she saw that her seat had been taken and that Joshua and Skeggsie were on their feet, putting their coats on.

  ‘You were a long time,’ Joshua said.

  ‘Something’s come up,’ she said, looking distracted.

  ‘Are we going?’ Skeggsie said pointedly to Joshua.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Can I come?’ Rose said.

  ‘To Twickenham? I didn’t think you would be bothered again.’

  ‘And I’ve got some stuff in the back seat of my car so there’s not really room,’ Skeggsie said, giving her a frown.

  ‘Please?’ Rose said, trying a pleading look.

  She didn’t want to be on her own again, knocking round the house, avoiding the rooms that Anna was using, thinking over the messiness of all that had happened that week.

  ‘There’s not really room,’ Skeggsie said.

  ‘I don’t take up much space.’

  Joshua looked puzzled. ‘Why do you want to come?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just do.’

  ‘Come on, then.’

  Skeggsie scowled at her as she went after Joshua.

  TWENTY-NINE

  The journey to Twickenham was quick. Rose was sitting on less than half the back seat, her legs squashed up against the rear of Joshua. Beside her sat the box of a brand-new printer. On the side were the words Laser Jet CP36525dn Colour Laser Printer. She wondered where this would fit in among Skeggsie’s vast array of IT equipment.

  She half listened as Joshua explained the reasoning behind going back to the B and B for a third time. She nodded and ummed but really she didn’t care about any of it. On the previous Tuesday they’d found out more than they ever thought they would. Her mum and Brendan had planned their own disappearance. What was the point of returning to the B and B? What would they find out? Information that would simply rub away at the hurt and grief they already felt.

  And in the end what did it all mean?

  Her mum and Brendan were still dead.

  So what if the first days of their disappearance were something they organised themselves. Perhaps, like the inspector who came to see her said, they had been target
ed by career criminals and killed to stop them uncovering evidence of organised crime. Maybe this had happened after they’d flown off from Heathrow. Nothing had been heard for five years. Now she wished, more than anything, that Joshua would leave it alone.

  In Twickenham the Pay and Display parking bays near the B and B were full up and Skeggsie had to go further up the road. He parked the car almost opposite to where Rose had seen the technician, Frank Palmer, going into a house the week before. The front door was green with no glass and looked unwelcoming. Next door’s was completely different – solid wood with frosted panes and a brass knocker and letter box.

  ‘I’m going to stay here,’ she said.

  ‘How come?’

  She shrugged. Skeggsie closed his door and walked off.

  ‘You all right, Rosie?’ Joshua said.

  ‘Just got some stuff to think about.’

  He nodded and then followed Skeggsie. She watched them approach the B and B, Skeggsie stopping and waiting for Joshua. When they went inside she found herself relaxing, stretching her legs along the side of the printer box.

  She looked at the house across the road again. If she could confirm that the technician, Frank Palmer, really did live there then she could make an anonymous call to the police to inform them. She would not want Henry or anyone else knowing that she had been the source of the tip. She remembered Detective Inspector Schillings’ reprimand. She never ever wanted to see that man again.

  She might see Frank Palmer going by; perhaps coming out of his house or returning to it after shopping. She’d seen him the previous Saturday – why shouldn’t she see him today? After a few moments she sighed, leaning her head against the corner of the printer box. It was a stupid plan. Frank Palmer may be staying in all day or going out all day. Either way she could sit there in the back of Skeggsie’s car for hours and not see him. In any case they wouldn’t be parked there for hours. Joshua was going to talk to the owner of the B and B. How long would it take for her to say that she didn’t remember anything from five years ago?

  It might be that Frank Palmer didn’t live in the house at all. She’d seen him use a key on the front door but it may be that it was a key for a friend’s house.