Still, there was little chance of her being discovered while she remained there. From the veranda at the front of the building it was just possible to make out the roof of a neighbouring property in the distance. It was why the place was so perfect – not overlooked by anyone and too far away for any screams to be heard. As far as the locals were concerned, it was disused and had been for many years, so there was no danger of unexpected callers or delivery drivers turning up and discovering who was being kept there.
Jade didn’t stir as she was laid down on the bed next to a pile of fresh clothes in her size. All basic: some T-shirts, shorts, jogging bottoms and underwear. The fancy stuff would come later. Also arranged for her use was a packet of fragrance-free baby wipes, a toothbrush and toothpaste.
She was left alone then, the door locked and the wooden shutters bolted firmly across the windows. A few minutes later, there was the sound of a tap running somewhere else in the building and the clink of a glass being placed on a granite worktop. Then a beer can cracking open and a mouth sucking noisily on the foam that exploded from the opening.
But Jade heard nothing.
44
George had deposited his father back at the apartment then disappeared, saying he had an errand to run. Patricia was waiting for Philip in the kitchen, arms folded, boot-faced, expecting an explanation, but he chose not to offer one and instead silently took himself off for a bath that he managed to make last for more than an hour. By the time he surfaced, his skin even more prune-like than usual, she had gone out herself. He let out an enormous sigh of relief and spent the next hour alternating between reading a book and plotting how he could make contact with the Reynolds family without alerting Maggie.
It was almost seven when Patricia returned, with George, bearing salad vegetables, cold cuts and a freshly baked loaf. She didn’t ask him whether he was hungry, but proceeded to make him a prosciutto salad and plonked the plate down on the table in front of him.
‘I’m not hungry,’ he said.
‘Oh, so you’re talking to me now, are you?’
Philip stared up at his wife as resentment flooded through him. How dare she speak to him as though he was one of her underlings?
‘I think you owe me an explanation for this afternoon,’ she added.
There was, as far as he was concerned, nothing to explain: he had had a couple of drinks with his son and the other two, had taken Johnnie back to his boat because he was in no fit state to take himself, and then he had enjoyed a quiet coffee on his own. Where was the harm in that?
Of course, there was more to it, but he was certainly not inclined to tell Patricia about him wanting to help Jade’s family. He smarted, however, as he recalled Maggie’s reaction to his request. On the one hand he could appreciate her reluctance to introduce him to Jade’s parents when only a few hours had passed, but on the other he feared waiting any longer was foolish. There was so much he could do to help them now, because those first few hours were also the most crucial. It felt short-sighted and, well, a bit cruel of Maggie to deny him the opportunity.
Thankfully, he could be confident that George, currently observing both of his parents from his position on the sofa, would not tell Patricia about the conversation with Maggie because Philip had asked him not to on their way back to Orquídea. George had agreed because he recognized how incendiary it would be for his mother.
George was sitting with his arms folded across his chest. Philip adjusted his own posture to mirror it. There was something defiant about the pose that made him feel bolder facing down the heat of his wife’s stare.
Had she always dominated him? It pained him to think that she had, and yet Philip could recall the early days of their relationship when he was the one who led the discussions and made the decisions on behalf of his family. It was he, in fact, who decided they should set up home in Crystal Palace after they married in 1971. He had got to know the area well when he had been lodging in nearby Sydenham while studying for his degree in Art History at the Courtauld Institute of Art on the Strand. Patricia was from north of the river, born and raised in Whetstone, but she never questioned his choice for them to move south.
It was only after she’d joined the police that the balance of power between them began to shift. It did not happen overnight, but rather by stealth, until the disagreements between them became so bad it was easier for him to give in to her demands than continue to butt heads. He also wanted to protect the children, who were becoming distressed by their rowing; George’s teacher at primary school called them in to say he’d begun picking on younger boys as a means of venting his frustration and he was falling behind with his learning.
Philip was less able to pinpoint when Patricia’s assertiveness began to make him feel emasculated. Was it when his friends started to mock him for allowing her to nag him as she did? When she banned him from playing golf at the weekends because she found his absence irritating? He couldn’t remember when it stopped bothering him though. It simply became the norm.
A few more minutes ticked by in silence. Philip could see Patricia’s lips begin to twitch, her burning desire to say something overriding her determination to wait for him to reply. He began counting in his head: he’d reached nine when she cracked.
‘So, where were you?’
Philip crossed his arms tighter across his chest before responding.
‘I escorted Johnnie back to his boat because he was too drunk to walk unaccompanied. Then I stopped for coffee to clear my head,’ he said evenly.
‘You should’ve called to let me know where you were.’
‘Why?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I said, why?’
‘Dad . . .’ Such was the caution in George’s tone that it came out as ‘Daaaaad’.
Philip smiled benignly at his son.
‘George, I’m asking a simple question of your mother, it’s fine.’
‘You’re asking me why you should’ve called me? Because it’s courtesy,’ Patricia spluttered. ‘I’m your wife.’
‘Yes, you are, but I am not answerable to you, any more than you are to me. If I decide to have a coffee on my own, I do not need to seek your permission to do so.’
‘I never said that you did.’
He had expected her to be furious but her reaction was one of bewilderment, as though she couldn’t understand why he was daring to talk back to her. He uncrossed his arms and got to his feet.
‘Good, that’s settled then.’
‘Why are you being like this?’ she asked him, her voice quivering.
‘Because I’m tired, Pat,’ he said, without a trace of rancour. ‘I’m tired of being nagged and berated and forced to please everyone but myself. I toe the line because I feel I have no other choice.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Katy was the same.’
Patricia went ghostly pale.
‘Dad—’ George cautioned again, this time more abruptly.
‘No, I shan’t shut up, George, not this time. I should have said this many years before now. Patricia, I should never have allowed you to bully our daughter like you did and I deeply regret that. She wasn’t happy, we both knew that, but instead of giving her our blessing to go to Durham, you attached conditions to it because it didn’t suit you for her to leave London. You shouldn’t have withheld my mother’s inheritance from her.’
‘She would’ve just frittered it away if I hadn’t,’ said Patricia.
‘Your preoccupation with the money running out made Katy think she should stay with Declan because he could give her a financially secure future, even though we all knew the relationship had run its course. Our darling girl was so conflicted and you ignored it.’
‘No I didn’t,’ his wife protested. ‘I don’t believe the relationship was on its last legs either. She jumped at the chance to bring Declan on holiday with us.’
‘Because you told her the holiday wouldn’t happen otherwise! She was seventeen and far too young to settle down,’ said Philip exasperate
dly. ‘She’d made up her mind to call things off, which would’ve been the sensible thing to do at her age, but you bullied her into changing it. Then we lost her for good.’
Patricia jolted in her chair as if it had electrocuted her.
‘There is nothing I can do to change that now, no matter how desperately I wish I could. But I can change us, how we are,’ continued Philip. From the corner of his eye he could see George staring at him in shock; his son had never witnessed him speaking like this before. ‘No longer do you get to tell me what to do, Patricia. I won’t put up with it.’
He walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him, his stunned family rooted to their seats in his wake.
45
Inspector Jasso was apparently too busy to talk to Maggie himself and instead had one of his officers call her back to take notes of what she’d gleaned from Jade’s family. It was hard to contain her temper as she relayed the details: it felt as though she was doing Clive and Mandy a disservice not to be talking to Jasso himself and she wasn’t used to being this removed in an investigation.
Yet she and the others could only pursue matters so far in any case. They couldn’t arrest any suspects themselves on foreign soil and would need to apply for a European Arrest Warrant before the Spanish police could detain any person or persons on their behalf. However, applying for an EAW would mean them admitting what they’d been doing – and the fallout would be far too great if they did.
She wasn’t a rule breaker by nature, although she definitely pushed boundaries when she felt it necessary. On a previous case as a FLO she’d gone against an explicit order from the SIO – Umpire in fact, and the first time they’d worked together – because she believed it was in the best interests of the parents of their victim, an eight-year-old girl called Megan Fowler. The child had been murdered and her killer cut off her long hair to keep as a trophy. Umpire wanted the detail withheld so it could be used as leverage, but that meant delaying Megan’s mum and dad from viewing their daughter’s body because he didn’t trust them to see her shorn hair and not tell others about it.
Maggie argued against his decision, saying it was cruel to deny the parents the opportunity to see their child and there must surely be a way around it, like shrouding Megan’s scalp to hide what was left of her hair. When Umpire rejected the suggestion, she privately told the girl’s parents why they couldn’t see her and swore them to secrecy, which they did abide by until after an arrest was made. Umpire went ballistic when he found out Maggie had disobeyed him, however, and had her suspended from family liaison duties; the four months she was sidelined was enough of a scare to ensure she acted more cautiously going forward. But the situation Walker had corralled her into now was a different league to the Megan Fowler case – she wouldn’t only lose her specialism if they were found out, she might well lose her entire career.
She knew Umpire would try to talk her into catching the next flight back to London if he found out what Walker was asking of them – so she’d made up her mind not to tell him.
After passing on her notes about Jade Reynolds, Maggie stayed at the hotel going through the case files again. She trusted that Shah knew them inside out but she wanted to read the statements again for her own satisfaction. The ‘three dates’ angle was niggling away at her. She was certain it must mean something to the killer, because it was so specific. If they were to believe Shah’s Google search and think it applied to how many times a couple should date before sleeping together, then it might suggest the killer was old-fashioned in his values, thinking it was good to wait. But then his treatment of Katy’s corpse after murdering her proved there was nothing remotely gentlemanly about him.
She called it a day just after seven, packing away the files neatly in Shah and Paulson’s room. The two of them and Walker had gone off to grab some food but she wanted to check in with the Popes first. As she walked along the front to Orquídea, she questioned how much of Jasso’s experience on the first investigation into Katy’s death was driving his handling of this one. Did he feel the same as Martos did, that mistakes were made which prevented them from catching the killer? Or was he confident they did all they could and he had nothing to prove now?
She was so deep in thought that she almost overshot the gate into Orquídea: it was only the sound of it slamming shut that alerted her to it. Turning round, she saw Philip striding in the direction of the seafront and she could tell from his expression that he wasn’t happy. She called out to him, but even though she was certain he must’ve heard her, he continued on.
The gate clanged again as George came rushing through it.
‘Have you seen my dad?’
‘Yes, he went that way.’ She pointed towards the seafront. ‘I called to him but he ignored me. Is he okay?’
George stared in the direction his father had gone, his manner tense and troubled.
‘Do you want to go after him?’ she asked. ‘Or I could?’
He was obviously thinking about it, but shook his head.
‘I think it’s best we leave him to it.’
‘Has something happened?’
George’s shoulders dropped.
‘Mum and Dad had a row, a really nasty one. Dad said . . . um, I probably shouldn’t say for Mum’s sake, but it wasn’t nice.’ He looked close to tears. ‘I don’t know how they’ll come back from it. I seriously think coming out here again has pushed them to breaking point.’
‘Where’s your mum now?’
‘Indoors. She’s very distressed. I should probably get back to her.’ He went to open the gate, then gave Maggie a puzzled look, as though he’d only just noticed she was there. ‘Were you on your way to see us?’
‘You, actually, but it can wait. Go and see to your mum.’
George was torn. ‘Is it something to do with the investigation though?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Give me half an hour. I’ll check on Mum and then I’ll meet you next door in the restaurant.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, if it’s about the investigation then it’s important.’ He grimaced. ‘I could also do with being distracted from worrying about how my parents’ marriage is imploding.’
46
Twenty minutes later, Philip arrived at the hotel. Thinking on his feet, he pretended he was from the British Consulate in Palma and, luckily for him, the receptionist didn’t question it. Perhaps because, in his smart stone-coloured trousers and crisp white shirt, his Panama hat in hand, Philip looked as though he could be someone official, someone with gravitas. The receptionist told him the room number and directed him to the lift with a lipsticked smile.
Clive Reynolds was stunned when Philip explained who he was, while his wife, Mandy, burst into tears.
‘But Spanish police told us they don’t think Jade’s been taken like your daughter,’ said Clive. ‘They’re saying she got into some bloke’s car willingly.’ He paused for a moment and looked deep into Philip’s eyes. ‘You think she has been taken, don’t you.’ He said it as a statement, not a question. ‘You wouldn’t be here otherwise.’
‘I am fearful for your daughter’s safety, yes.’
Mandy choked down another sob.
‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Reynolds, I don’t mean to upset you. But when I look back at that period of time when Katy was first missing, there is so much I would have done differently. I allowed myself to become redundant in the process and let the police do my job for me.’
The young man who’d been introduced to him as Jade’s fiancé piped up. ‘Your job?’
‘My job as her father – I should’ve done more to find Katy myself and I will never forgive myself for not.’ He looked at Clive and was buoyed to see in his expression the realization that he should be doing the same now, for Jade. This was what fathers did: they rescued their children when they were in trouble. They didn’t sit on the sidelines watching other men take charge or letting their wives tell them what to do. ‘I’m here to help you. Pleas
e, let me help you.’
‘But you’re not the police, what can you do?’ asked Mandy doubtfully.
‘Plenty, actually. If this is a repeat of what happened to Katy, we can retrace the steps of what happened in the week between her going missing from the beach and –’ his voice caught in his throat – ‘her body being found. I know who the police questioned back then – some of them still live in the resort, so we can talk to them.’
‘The police won’t like that,’ said the fiancé.
‘They can’t stop you looking for Jade yourself – you don’t need to sit here doing nothing if you don’t want to,’ said Philip insistently. ‘You simply need a plan of action first.’ His eyes locked on Clive’s again. ‘So many times since Katy died I’ve thought about what more I could’ve done to find her. I was her father, the one who was meant to protect her, and I let her down. I wish with all my heart I could go back and change things.’
Clive Reynolds squared his shoulders, his expression blazing with determination.
‘Talk me through this plan of yours.’
47
Maggie swirled the ice cubes in the sparkling water before lifting the glass to her mouth to take another sip in the hope it would quell the rumbling in her stomach. She hadn’t eaten all day and it was now ten past eight. She thought about asking Annika to bring her some olives and bread to keep her going and hoped George wouldn’t mind if she ate as they talked.
Dead Guilty Page 17
