by Jane Casey
I almost choked from sheer rage. Derwent shot me a warning look then turned back to Belinda.
‘You’re talking as if something happened. Did someone attack Chloe?’
‘No. Absolutely not. She was here the entire time. She didn’t go out. It was general advice for her. The weather was warm last week when she arrived and she was wandering around in very short shorts and a T-shirt and no bra. Completely unsuitable, as I pointed out to her. I would never have dressed that way when I was her age. And frankly, I think it’s irresponsible of Kate to let her go about the place dressed like that. I tried to explain to her that she wouldn’t get any sympathy from anyone if something terrible happened to her, and she took offence.’
I was surprised my voice sounded calm when I spoke. ‘It’s quite an offensive thing to say.’
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Everyone knows it’s true even if you’re not supposed to say it. There’s a distinct lack of common sense about it. You cannot allow girls to engage in risky or sluttish behaviour in the name of equality. It’s asking for trouble.’
What a good thing you have sons, I thought. Their picture was on the mantelpiece in a silver frame: handsome, fleshy faces, tanned from holidays, one smiling, one not.
‘Do Nathan and Nolan get on with Chloe?’
Instant, absolute ice. ‘Why would you ask that? What did Chloe say?’
‘Nothing. We’re trying to get a full picture of what happened over the last few days, that’s all,’ I said.
‘Well, you can leave my children out of your picture. They had very little to do with Chloe. As you can imagine, they didn’t have much in common with her. They are both highly intelligent boys. Nolan is extremely creative and Nathan has a gift for mathematics. They didn’t want to spend a lot of time with Chloe since she couldn’t engage with their interests.’
‘I’d like to speak with them,’ Derwent said.
‘Certainly not.’ She was quivering with outrage. ‘I have done my level best to save them from being exposed to the complications of Brian’s private life. There was no reason for them to meet Kate and they never did.’
‘They might be able to shed some light on Chloe’s state of mind.’
‘They are teenage boys. They don’t even know their own state of mind.’ She shook her head. ‘I will not allow you to disrupt their lives because of this. I don’t give a hoot about why Chloe left here on Sunday morning, except that I thought it was rude of her to go without so much as a thank you. If I never saw her again, I wouldn’t particularly care. She’s not my family and I’m not going to pretend I care about her just because you’re probably judging me for being a wicked stepmother.’ There were tears standing in her eyes. So she was capable of emotion after all. It was a shame that emotion was pure self-pity.
‘We’re not here to judge you.’ From the tone of Derwent’s voice, though, it was clear that he had judged her, and not kindly. ‘We’re here because Kate Emery has disappeared. From the state of her house we know something terrible happened there. It is a murder investigation.’
‘You don’t understand, do you? I don’t care who killed Kate,’ Belinda spat.
A noise in the doorway made me look round: Brian Emery. Very quietly, he said, ‘I really think it would be helpful if we all calmed down.’
Belinda was far too angry to notice he was there. ‘I don’t care if she’s dead. I don’t care if you never find her body. The only thing that surprised me about it was that it took so long for someone to decide to murder her. I’d have done it years ago.’
‘Brian Emery has interesting taste in women, doesn’t he?’ Derwent settled down in the passenger seat. ‘Goes to show money and sense don’t go together.’
‘She’s terrifying.’ I smiled and waved at the pale face in the window: Brian Emery, watching us go as if we were his last chance of salvation. ‘But I can’t quite make it all fit together. You don’t get to run your own business and make a huge success of it if you’re a total doormat. It’s not as if property developers are notoriously easy clients.’
‘People can be different at home and at work.’
‘Oh yeah?’ I glanced sideways at him. ‘So when you’re at home with Melissa you’re really quiet and gentle, is that it? I’d never have guessed.’
‘I’m not talking about me.’ So back off. ‘I don’t quite believe he’s as meek and mild as he seemed to be. I imagine it’s useful for him to pretend to be that way. Belinda’s not the kind of lady who likes to be challenged. But he had a big old argument with Kate, didn’t he?’
‘Well, she shouted at him. We don’t know if he shouted back.’
‘And we don’t know if he was really happy about giving Kate money all the time. It was causing him problems in his marriage, wasn’t it? I wouldn’t want to sign up to anything that would get me in trouble with Belinda.’
‘He could have given Kate the lump sum she wanted. That would have ended it.’
‘Would it? Kate kept coming back to him. She was tapping him for more and more money. I doubt it would have been the end.’ Derwent rubbed his face. ‘What do we think about Chloe? Why did she run away?’
‘I don’t know. It could have been as simple as a row between her and Belinda. God knows, I wouldn’t want to spend any time under the same roof as her.’
‘Why wouldn’t she tell you about it though?’
‘Embarrassed? Maybe she thought it was her fault that her stepmother didn’t like her. I’m tempted to apply for a restraining order to keep Belinda away from her. No wonder Chloe doesn’t want to go and live with her dad.’
‘Do you think Belinda had a point?’
My hands tightened on the wheel. ‘About not dressing in revealing clothes because men can’t control themselves?’
‘About Chloe being much more capable than Kate would ever admit.’ He reached over and patted my knee. ‘Calm down, dear.’
‘Keep your hands to yourself,’ I snapped.
‘Temper, temper.’
I shook my head. ‘You’re so annoying.’
‘Famous for it,’ Derwent agreed.
‘I don’t know if Chloe is faking. I don’t think she is. But …’
‘What?’
‘She’s friends with Bethany Norris, and that girl is nobody’s fool. I don’t really understand their friendship but they seem close.’ I bit my lip, remembering the two girls laughing on the floor of Bethany’s bedroom, and how the light had died in Chloe’s eyes when she realised I was watching them. ‘Maybe Chloe is more capable than Kate allowed. Remember the files of paperwork in Kate’s study? She did seem to go through a lot of specialists, as Belinda said.’
‘Well, there’s your next job. Collect up all the papers from the study and have a good look through. See if you can talk to any of the people who assessed Chloe and didn’t give Kate the answers she wanted.’
‘What are you thinking?’ I asked.
‘It did suit Kate that Chloe was dependent on her.’
‘And you think Chloe might have resented it?’
‘It’s possible. What if she wanted to spread her wings? What if she didn’t like being kept at home?’
‘I wouldn’t have liked it,’ I said, thinking about it.
‘Me neither.’
‘But she could have left. She is an adult now.’
‘She might not have known that. She might have thought she needed to stop her mother interfering in her life once and for all. She’s a pretty girl, isn’t she?’
‘Stunning,’ I agreed.
‘And according to Belinda she dressed provocatively.’ Derwent held up his hands. ‘Which is completely her right and I’m not saying she shouldn’t have. If anything, I wish more women dressed that way.’
‘Men like you are the reason they don’t.’
He whistled. ‘Harsh, Kerrigan. Anyway, my point is that she could have recruited someone to help her. Someone to do the deed while she was miles away. Someone who could have camped out in Harold Lowe’s house and
waited for the signal to go in and slaughter Kate Emery.’
I thought about it. ‘It’s possible. But it’s not easy to find someone who’s prepared to kill for you, is it?’
‘People kill for all sorts of reasons – you know that. Sex. Money. Shame. Frustration. Fear. No shortage of any of them in Kate Emery’s life, as far as I can see. You heard what Belinda said. She was surprised it took so long for someone to kill Kate.’
I nodded. ‘All it needed was for one person to have had enough.’
12
‘Where shall I put this?’ Georgia Shaw was standing beside my desk, holding a box of files.
‘Anywhere.’ I sounded snappy, even to myself. I looked up from the letter I was reading and tried to smile. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just trying to get my head around Kate Emery’s life and it’s confusing.’
‘It’s fine,’ Georgia said in a tone that made me feel it wasn’t fine at all. ‘That’s the last box. Do you want me to start going through it?’
‘No. I’d better do it myself.’
Her mouth tightened before she turned away and I suppressed a sigh. Did I really have to explain that it wasn’t that I didn’t trust her? That she didn’t know what she was looking for and neither did I? That boring paperwork was a huge part of the job and sometimes it meant spending an entire morning reading through the mind-numbing admin of a stranger’s life?
‘Georgia.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Can you make some calls for me? See if you can get hold of any of these people and if they’ll speak to us.’ I handed her a sheaf of letters. ‘The addresses are old, I’m afraid. We’re going back ten or fifteen years. It might take a bit of time to track them down.’
‘Who are they?’
‘Psychologists who saw Chloe Emery when she was a child. Kate took Chloe to see quite a few before she felt she got the correct diagnosis.’
Georgia frowned. ‘OK, but what does this have to do with whoever killed her?’
‘I don’t know yet. It might be a complete waste of time. It’s bothering me, that’s all.’
‘Great.’ Georgia said it under her breath as she turned away. I went back to my paperwork, but not before I caught Liv Bowen’s eye and shared a meaningful look with her. Liv got it. Georgia didn’t, yet. But I wasn’t ready to write her off. I had to be fair.
I was trying to make sense of a bank statement when she came back.
‘OK. I’ve got hold of this lady: Raina Khan. She’s still at the same address and she says you can come round this afternoon at three.’
‘Oh, well done. Do you want to come with me?’
She brightened. ‘Yes. Definitely.’
‘Any luck with the others?’
‘Not so far, but I’ll keep trying.’ She headed off with a spring in her step.
‘You’re so good at motivating people, Kerrigan.’ Derwent, leaning over my desk, murmuring so Georgia couldn’t hear. His breath tickled my neck and I twisted away.
‘I learned it all from you, obviously.’
‘Obviously. Does she remind you of yourself when you were a lowly detective constable?’
‘Nope.’
‘You were so sweet before you became all cynical and embittered.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘That happened about five minutes after I started working with you.’
‘Sexual frustration will do that.’
‘Frustration, certainly.’ I swivelled on my chair so I was facing away from him. ‘Do you mind? I’m trying to concentrate.’
‘Found anything?’
‘Besides the psych info? I found this.’ I flattened it out and showed him.
‘A life insurance policy. For Kate?’
‘Yep.’
‘Who’s the beneficiary?’
‘Chloe.’
‘How much?’
‘Half a million quid.’
Derwent whistled. ‘Is it valid?’
‘All she has to do is claim it once the death certificate comes through.’
‘It would help if we had a body, wouldn’t it?’
‘Without a body, we have less chance of proving Chloe was involved in her mother’s murder,’ I pointed out. ‘It might be worth the wait for the death certificate in those circumstances.’
Derwent frowned. ‘If this was the reason Kate was killed, Chloe would have had to know about it and plan her mother’s murder. That’s a lot to ask of any eighteen-year-old, let alone one who isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer.’
‘Well, she could have known about it fairly easily, because it was in this envelope.’ I showed Derwent. It had CHLOE written across it in the clear, distinctive handwriting I recognised as Kate’s. I flipped it over and read the sentence scrawled across the back: In case I get run over by a bus!
‘It wasn’t sealed. She could have read it. Everything Chloe might have needed was in here – her birth certificate, her passport. Kate planned for a time when she wasn’t around, so Chloe didn’t have to go looking for anything. And Chloe asked me about it on Sunday night, and on Monday when I spoke to her. She knows it’s important.’
‘Life insurance and plans for what might happen in the event of her sudden death.’ Derwent rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Either Kate was highly organised or she knew her life was in danger.’
‘This is jokey,’ I said, tapping my finger on the envelope. ‘This doesn’t suggest to me that she knew what was coming. The house was very organised too. Nothing out of place. Some people are just like that. You’re like that.’
‘I like to know where to find things. I don’t have an envelope for anyone to open in the event of my sudden death.’
I shivered, suddenly spooked. ‘Don’t talk about it.’
He grinned. ‘Feeling nervous? Someone walking over your grave?’
‘Stop,’ I said quietly, and for once, he did. I slipped the envelope into an evidence bag and started filling in the details. ‘Of course, it wouldn’t have to be Chloe’s idea to kill her mother and claim the life insurance policy. If she’d told someone about it, they might have come up with the plan. All she had to do was play along.’
‘Who?’
‘I don’t know. Her dad? Her stepmother?’
‘It’s possible. Maybe they recruited Chloe rather than the other way round. Or maybe Chloe isn’t so dim after all.’
‘Do you think we should bring her in?’
Derwent thought about it. ‘Not yet. Save that for when we know a bit more. At the moment she has no idea we’re interested in her and I think we should try to keep it that way for as long as possible.’
‘What if she runs?’
‘She won’t.’ He sounded certain. ‘She has too much to lose if she goes.’
It was raining again when we arrived at Raina Khan’s address, a narrow townhouse in a back street of Pimlico, near the river. The building was shared between different businesses: an interior design company in the basement and on the ground floor, a solicitor’s office on the first and second floor, and Raina Khan’s consulting rooms at the top of the building.
‘It would be the top,’ Georgia complained as the psychologist buzzed us in.
‘It’s always the top.’
I was amused to see how the different businesses had laid claim to their share of the communal spaces: flowers and a scented candle on the ground floor, files stacked in boxes on the first and second floor where they didn’t have time for fripperies. And on the third floor there was a child-sized chair with a fat, sagging teddy propped up in it. It set the tone nicely.
I knocked and the door opened immediately. ‘You’re the police officers. Come in, come in. Take a seat. Let me pour you some tea. It’s an infusion, not tea. Herbal, very good, very relaxing.’
I blinked against the light and the onslaught of hospitality; somehow I hadn’t been expecting either. The room ran the length of the building, with windows on either side and a view of rooftops stretching into the distance. Seagulls whirled around out
side the windows like scraps of paper caught in the wind. The room was crammed with art and books, with batik wall-hangings and carved wooden furniture, and the overall atmosphere was as welcoming as the woman who worked there.
Raina Khan was tiny, her long hair streaked with grey, her eyes very bright. She wore a dark red dress and flat ballet shoes, and she didn’t stop moving or talking for as much as a second while we settled into low, squashy armchairs.
‘If you’re hungry you must have a biscuit. I made them with my last client – he’s a regular, very sweet, loves making things. He does better when he’s doing something with his hands, you know? He needs that tactile element in everything. Kneading dough is wonderful. Pressing out biscuit shapes – terrific. It’s all about feeling what he’s doing, taking time, learning to control his movements. It’s very soothing, baking. You can’t rush it. I have a minuscule kitchen but I can make a surprising amount in it. People tell me they’re very good, these biscuits. Go on, have one.’
She put a tray on the coffee table: small cups of steaming, aromatic liquid and a pile of dry-looking biscuits. I took a cup and sipped it, tasting mint and something else, something bitter but somehow wholesome.
‘Good?’
‘Yes,’ I said, and it was the first thing I’d managed to say since we arrived. ‘Thank you for seeing us, Dr Khan.’
‘You can call me Raina.’ She sat down, shaking her wrist to settle her collection of silver bracelets into place. ‘Which one of you is Georgia?’
‘Me.’ Georgia waved. She had taken a bite of biscuit and seemed to be struggling slightly.
‘And so you are?’
‘Maeve Kerrigan. I’m a detective sergeant.’
‘And you’re investigating a murder. Kate Emery.’
‘That’s right.’
‘I’m surprised that you want to see me.’ She blinked a couple of times, inviting me to explain.
‘It’s not directly connected with what happened to Kate – background information, really. Do you remember seeing Chloe as a patient when she was five or six?’
