by Roberta Kray
‘No, that’s not what I’m saying. Of course not. How many women are there in London called Ava?’
‘A few, probably, but how many of them are connected to the Streets? That’s how they’re going to think. That’s how I’d think if I was them. I’d figure it was too much of a coincidence.’
‘Yeah, well, a coincidence is all it is. Stop getting ahead of yourself. Come tomorrow, they’ll be digging around in his business, in his past, in his family life. Something’s bound to come to light.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’
‘There’s still nothing to connect you to the shooting.’
Ava chewed on her nails. She remembered the eyes of the brown-haired cop, hard and suspicious and cynical. That woman had her well and truly in the frame. ‘Since when has that stopped the cops from fixing someone up?’
‘I think even they’d need a bit more than a whispered name from a dying man.’
‘But what if there is more?’ said Ava, her imagination starting to run riot again. ‘What if they find something else?’
‘There isn’t anything to find, love.’
‘Well there shouldn’t be,’ she said. ‘But what if… God, I don’t know. I’ve just got a really bad feeling about all this. Do you think I should see a solicitor?’
Jimmy Gold pulled a face. ‘Why waste your money on a brief when you don’t need one? Give it a day or two and see what happens next.’
She knew that he thought she was overreacting, and maybe he was right. She didn’t want to make it look like she had something to hide. Although a visit from the law hadn’t been unusual in the days of her childhood, it was the first time in her life that she had been the focus of their interest. Her nerves were jangling and she couldn’t think straight. She picked up the mug, sipped at the lukewarm coffee and put the mug down again. ‘Do nothing, then? Just sit around and wait.’
‘What else can you do?’
Ava glanced at her phone that had remained silent since she’d arrived. ‘Why hasn’t he called me back? I left a message ages ago.’
‘Who’s that, love?’
‘Chris Street. I called him after the cops had been round.’
‘Maybe he’s had a visit too. Old Bill’s going to want to talk to Danny again. Bound to. He’s their number one witness.’
Ava was starting to wish that she’d never taken the driving job. Ever since she’d started, there had been trouble, first with Guy Wilder and now the shooting. She had thought that she could cope with working for a villain, but now she wasn’t so sure. She remembered the gun that she had slipped into her bag – but that couldn’t have anything to do with the death of Squires. No, there were hundreds, maybe thousands of guns swirling around in the underworld of London.
‘What is it?’
Ava wrinkled her nose. ‘Nothing.’
‘Why don’t you talk to the girl you were telling me about, this Lydia Hall? She knew Squires, didn’t she? Maybe she can shed some light on why he said the name Ava.’
‘I would do if she was in any fit state. But I’m not sure that she knew him that well. Or maybe she did. I’ve no idea, to be honest.’
‘Could be worth a go.’
‘I think the cops are going to see her. Probably so they can try and dig the dirt on yours truly.’
‘Not that you’re getting paranoid or anything.’
‘I’ve a right to be paranoid,’ she said, forcing a semblance of a smile. ‘Everybody’s out to get me.’
Suddenly Ava’s mobile went off, its ring sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet of the kitchen. She snatched it up, hoping that it was Chris Street. But it wasn’t his name showing on the screen. ‘Ah, it’s only Tash,’ she said as she lifted the phone to her ear. ‘Hi there, you okay?’
Tash, however, was obviously far from okay. Ava couldn’t make out what she was saying. It was just a hurried series of mumbles interspersed with sobs. ‘Tash? Tash? Slow down. I can’t hear you properly. What’s going on? What’s happened?’ There was a long pause and then Hannah came on the line.
‘You’d better get back,’ she said. ‘There’s been some bad news.’
Ava’s fingers tightened around the phone. ‘What is it?’
Hannah hesitated as if unwilling to speak the words out loud. But then she took a deep breath and said, ‘It’s Lydia. She’s dead. She’s taken an overdose.’
37
DI Valerie Middleton gazed at the empty double bed with its rumpled sheet. They had removed the body of the girl half an hour ago, but her imprint still remained. How old had she been? Twenty-five, twenty-six perhaps. A pretty, fair-haired girl with nothing to live for. A quarter-full bottle of whisky sat on the bedside table alongside an empty bottle of anti-depressants.
Suicides always filled Valerie with an almost overwhelming sense of sadness. It was the loneliness of it that got to her most, those final moments that had been spent in a solitary determination to end it all. There was no note, no final scribbled words of explanation. What could be so bad, so unendurable that Lydia Hall had felt unable to go on? It had to be connected to the murder of Squires.
DS Higgs came back into the bedroom and glanced at the bed. ‘What do you reckon, guv? A guilty conscience or a broken heart?’
Valerie knew that she had to turn off her emotions and put on her professional head if she wanted to think clearly. ‘No sign of the gun, I take it?’
‘No, but she could have dumped it straight after, dropped it in a bin or somewhere. The boys have finished searching the flat. It isn’t here. In fact, there isn’t much here at all, not even a computer. We’ve bagged her phone, but that’s about the sum of it.’
Valerie wasn’t surprised that the search had been completed so quickly. Lydia Hall had possessed very little. The flat was sparsely furnished with only the bare essentials. The girl had made no attempt to prettify it, to put up pictures or add any feminine touches. There were no furry scatter cushions, no family photos, no ornaments or plants. It hadn’t been so much a home as a roof over her head.
‘Okay, I’ll sort out the bedroom. Tell the boys they can go.’
As Higgs left the room, Valerie walked over to the window. It was only by chance that they had found the body at all. With Butler back at the scene of the crime and no real leads other than the mutterings of a dying man, she had decided that they may as well follow up on Ava Gold’s story and see how much Lydia knew about the shooting.
The flat was a small one-bedroom conversion on the ground floor of a three-storey Victorian house on Barley Road. The building, situated at the far end of the road, was in the less desirable part without the nice view over the green. Higgs had rung the bell a couple of times, but there had been no response. Valerie wasn’t sure what had made her try the handle – nobody kept their homes unlocked in Kellston even if they were in – but the door had offered no resistance and had swung smoothly open.
Valerie frowned. Had she known even as she stepped inside? There had been no smell – it was too early for that – but there had been something about the silence, a kind of still brooding quality that hung in the air like a pall. She had called out the girl’s name. ‘Lydia? Lydia, it’s the police.’
They had gone into the chilly living room. Nothing. The bedroom was off to the right. She had hesitated before she’d turned the brass-coloured doorknob, a sense of unease washing over her. The curtains were closed, but a lamp was on beside the bed. And in the soft light she had seen the girl with her fair hair spread over the pillow like a fan. Not asleep. She was definitely not asleep.
Valerie had gone through the motions, feeling for a pulse even though she knew it was useless. The body was already cool. They had been too late, way too late to even have had a chance of saving her. The pathologist had estimated the time of death in the early hours of the morning, maybe one or two o’clock. They had no idea as yet how many pills she had taken, but mixed with the whisky they would have acted quickly.
Turning away from the window, she walked bac
k over to the bed and with a gloved hand picked up the empty bottle and read the small print on the label. Amitriptyline. The prescription had been made out for a Karen Hall, not Lydia Hall. Sister? Mother? Or maybe just another name she had used. Valerie bagged the container, along with the bottle of whisky and the glass.
Higgs appeared again, her voice cool and brisk. ‘Ready, guv?’
‘Why do you think she left the front door open?’ Valerie asked. ‘What was the reason for that?’
‘Maybe she wanted someone to find her before it was too late.’
‘But no one was going to drop round at that time of night.’
‘Unless she made a call, told someone what she was planning on doing.’ Higgs paused and then added, ‘Or in case she changed her mind and called an ambulance. People do. And you wouldn’t want them wasting valuable time while they tried to get in.’
Valerie was aware that they would never know for certain. What had gone on in Lydia Hall’s mind would always remain a mystery. Someone, of course, would have come round eventually: her boss, a friend, even the police if she was reported as missing. Had she wanted to make it easy for them? Had she preferred her body to be discovered as soon as possible? Perhaps the truth was more mundane – that she had simply forgotten to lock the door behind her.
‘What are you thinking?’ Higgs asked. ‘You got doubts about the suicide?’
‘No, not really. There’s no sign of a struggle. I mean, it’s not impossible that she was murdered, but I don’t think so.’
‘So what next?’
Valerie gave a sigh. ‘We try and track down the family, if there is any, and break the bad news. Has Tash Reed gone home?’
‘Yeah, Annie ran her back. Said she’d stay with her until her friend got there.’
It had been unfortunate that Tash Reed had turned up when she had, shortly after they’d discovered the body. Finding the front door ajar, the girl had walked straight into the flat. Valerie remembered her expression as the two of them had come face to face in the living room, the eyes growing wide, the slow dawning of horror. Death was never easy to deal with, but when you stumbled on it unexpectedly…
Valerie straightened her shoulders and glanced over at Higgs. ‘Time for another visit to Market Square, I think.’
38
Ava, who had run most of the way back from the Mansfield, slipping and sliding on the ice, was now perched on the edge of one of the armchairs trying to get her breath back. It still hadn’t sunk in properly. Lydia was dead. Lydia had committed suicide. These were facts and yet she didn’t seem able to process them properly. She felt numb rather than emotional. It was as if the shock had paralysed the part of her brain that dealt with such terrible things.
Her gaze jumped between her flatmate and the two cops. Tash’s eyes were red with crying. Hannah was doing her best to comfort her, but it was an impossible task. Tash had started by blaming herself for not going round to Barley Road earlier in the morning and then, when she discovered that this would have made no difference, blamed herself instead for not staying up with Lydia last night.
‘I didn’t even hear her leave,’ Tash said. ‘She was going to sleep on the sofa, but she must have slipped out as soon as we went to bed.’
‘And what time was that?’ DS Higgs asked.
Tash opened her mouth, but only a thin mewling sound emerged.
‘About a quarter to twelve,’ said Hannah, taking over. ‘Yes, I’m pretty sure. Twelve at the latest.’
DI Middleton leaned forward, laying a hand lightly on Tash’s arm. ‘We understand that this is a difficult time, an awful time, and we’re really sorry to be asking all these questions, but it’s the only way we’re going to find out what happened.’
‘You know what happened, don’t you?’ said Hannah sharply. ‘She went home and then she —’
Tash visibly flinched, stopping her girlfriend in her tracks. Then she swallowed hard and stared at DI Middleton. ‘Why?’ she asked, in a small trembling voice. ‘Why did she do it?’
‘Perhaps if we could go over the events of the evening,’ said Middleton softly. ‘Lydia phoned you, yes? While you were out having a meal?’
‘She was hysterical,’ Hannah said.
‘Upset,’ Tash insisted, shifting a couple of inches away and glaring at her. ‘She wasn’t hysterical. Why are you saying that?’
‘She was more than just upset, Tash. You know she was. When we picked her up from the flat, she couldn’t stop crying.’
‘Well what do you expect when she’d just found out that… that someone she knew had been shot?’
Hannah glanced at the cops and gave a shrug. ‘It just seemed… I don’t know. I mean this was before the man had even died.’
‘You thought it was an overreaction?’ DS Higgs suggested. ‘Disproportionate?’
Hannah gave another shrug. She wasn’t going to deny it, but she wasn’t going to risk Tash’s wrath by agreeing out loud either.
‘Lydia was sensitive,’ Tash said. ‘Fragile. Things, they… they affected her differently to other people.’
‘And what time did you get the call?’ Middleton asked.
‘Nine-ish,’ Hannah said. ‘Yes, it was definitely about nine.’
Higgs scribbled in her notebook.
‘What about her family?’ Middleton asked. ‘Do you know where they are, how we might contact them?’
Tash, if she had heard the question, showed no indication of it. She covered her mouth with her fist and stared down at the floor.
‘I don’t know about any family,’ Hannah said. ‘To be honest, she was more Ava’s friend than ours.’
The two cops both stared at Ava. Finding herself the sudden focus of their attention, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Oh God, why had Hannah had to say that? She’d barely known Lydia. In fact, she’d only met her on three occasions: at Beast, on Friday when they’d gone to the Fox and last night when the poor girl had been falling apart. But she could hardly admit to that, not in Hannah’s presence at least. Tash had enough problems without her adding to them.
‘Sorry?’ Ava said, playing for time and pretending that her mind had been elsewhere. ‘What was that?’
‘Lydia’s family,’ said Higgs, her eyes boring into Ava. ‘She must have mentioned them to you.’
‘Oh, erm…’ Ava quickly thought back to the conversation she’d had with Tash that morning in the kitchen, trying to remember exactly what she’d said about Lydia and her past. ‘She didn’t talk about her family much. I know her mum died about nine months ago. I think that she was still… still trying to come to terms with it.’
‘And her father?’ Higgs asked.
Ava shook her head. ‘No, she never knew her father. She never mentioned any brothers or sisters either. She only moved here in July so I haven’t really known her that long.’
‘Do you know where she lived before?’
‘Glasgow,’ Ava said. ‘But I got the impression that she and her mother moved around a lot.’
‘Do you know what her mother was called, her Christian name?’
‘Sorry, I’ve got no idea.’
Higgs kept her eyes fixed firmly on Ava. If the sergeant’s stare was designed to intimidate, it worked. Ava had that icy, anxious feeling again. Although she had nothing to hide – other than the irrelevant matter of Tash’s infatuation with Lydia – she felt like the guilty party. Stay calm. Keep your head. Don’t let them see that you’re rattled. Like her dad had said, they were only fishing, but she knew they were after something big.
‘And what about boyfriends?’ Higgs asked. Her gaze left Ava for a second and flicked over towards Tash and Hannah. ‘Or… er… partners? Was she seeing anyone?’
Ava gave a thin smile. ‘Are you trying to ask if she was a lesbian?’
‘Was she?’
‘No, I don’t think so. And if she did have a boyfriend, she never mentioned him to me.’
DI Middleton crossed her long slender legs and smoothed out her s
kirt. ‘And did she ever mention Jeremy Squires to you? I mean, before last night.’
‘No, not that I remember.’
‘So he wasn’t a particularly close friend or, if he was, she didn’t want people to know about it.’
Tash’s head jerked up suddenly. ‘What are you… what do you mean?’
But everyone knew what the inspector meant.
‘You suspect there might have been something going on between them,’ said Hannah, articulating a collective thought. ‘You think they might have been having an affair.’
Middleton gave a cool shake of her head. ‘All we’re doing at the moment is trying to establish her state of mind, to make some sense of why she’d choose to take her own life a few hours after Jeremy Squires and Danny Street were shot.’
