‘My brother’s a big boy,’ I said. ‘Can’t he make something?’
‘No, he can’t. He’s not been feeling the best lately, maybe you haven’t noticed. And he’s had a busy day, too.’
‘Yeah, busy day drinking tea with pensioners.’
Sylvia seemed nervous, like always. Perhaps that’s just around me. She always liked my brothers, obviously, being married to one. But there was Brooks, the eldest, whom Sylvia liked especially. Addam never approved, Brooks being a drug addict, though impossibly sweet with it. Neither of them had to worry about seeing him, anyway, not since Brooks had taken up with some old pal of his again and disappeared out of our lives again. He had been staying with me in my old apartment in St George’s Harbour overlooking the Lagan when one day he went out to meet a friend, for coffee, he said, and never came back. Must have been some coffee!
I was six months pregnant with the boys at the time. It was shortly after that I caved to Paul’s invites of a date. Which was weird, getting to know someone else when I was already pregnant.
But not strange to Paul, who always wanted kids and couldn’t have them since he’d had treatment for a childhood cancer that had made him infertile. I wasn’t so keen on him to begin with but I was lucky to have Paul and I now knew it, especially when my sisters, Coral and Charlotte, had gone missing out of my life because, after the initial attraction of newborns, babies – as I was learning – made everyone (but Paul) retreat.
‘Twins,’ they both said. ‘I’m going to be the best aunt. I love them already.’
And then, screw all! And after all I did for their kids over the years! They were both over it, and now if I hadn’t have had Paul, I would have no one. Except the twins. I don’t know that one-year-olds are much company, or a support system of any sort. They were the reason I needed support, and I always hated to need help.
But Sylvia was as intimidated by my sisters as she was by me, which made it too easy to tell her what I wanted her to do with the boys. It made accepting her help easier. We had a conversation about what she’d feed the boys, after which I discovered she had done her own thing and ignored my rules. Sylvia had some idea that when they were with her for those few hours, the boys were hers and she would feed them whatever she wanted to; she didn’t take any notice of how I’d been doing it over the past year.
I must say though, she looked wrecked. Felt wrecked enough to be ratty with me; which was really saying something.
‘Try to be on time tomorrow when you collect them,’ she said as she held the bags out. I lifted Jared and put him in the car and then Rowan. Sylvia stretched back and gripped her side. I had two fat and active little guys and they’d given her a battering. She did not even wave at us as we drove away. That was just day one.
The boys fell asleep, dewy and briny with sweat, bubbles of it on their noses, their lashes webby and wet as I drove in the sour heat along the Outer Ring toward home. They were hard work but thank goodness they were cute. They really were the most beautiful things I’d ever seen and I’m not being biased.
At home, Paul and I gave them a bottle each and put them to bed. Thinking about Jackie looking at Chloe, his once-baby, on the table that day, I felt the blowback of his pain rip through me. I usually try to be present in body and spirit myself out of the hospital emotionally.
‘How did the boys get on?’ Paul asked.
‘Sylvia had coats on them in that heat!’
‘Typical exam weather, remember studying for exams in the garden?’
‘Yes, I know. If someone else says, ‘‘I suppose this is our summer’’ again, I’ll crack.’
‘But it is … always nicer in May than July and August.’
‘I know.’
‘Come here.’ He kissed me on the lips. ‘Want a salad?’
‘Yes.’
We sat at the table as we ate.
‘Maybe I’ll ask Sylvia to let the boys sleep longer during the day so I’ll see more of them in the evening,’ I said.
‘You can’t make them sleep, you know that.’
‘Yes, but I can tell her to try.’
‘How did she get on?’ Paul asked, wanting more detail.
‘She looked massively stressed. Especially about dinner. She’ll just have to prepare better, like we did when we knew I was going back to work.’
‘But Sylvia doesn’t work, she’s not used to it.’
‘She helps out at the church,’ I said. ‘Being a minister’s wife is a sort of job, no?’
Paul shrugged.
‘She was snappy when I questioned some of her choices.’
‘Well, you need to ease up on some things when someone else is minding your kids.’
‘Are you taking her side?’ I asked him.
‘No, never. Do you want to watch some TV?’
‘No, catch up on your programmes, I want to look some things up.’
‘I was hoping you’d tell me about your day.’
I had never, not in fifteen months of being with him, asked Paul about his day. I vowed to do it the next one.
I’d written Lewis Skelly, Belfast Met on my notebook. I was going to look him up but instead I looked up ‘dead girl found’ and ended up sidetracked by a new search of a different girl; her coverage far outweighed Chloe’s. This victim was found in April, five days before Paul, the kids and I left for Florida.
Erica McClelland.
Erica was nineteen years old and a music fan who had been in the live music venue, The Night Kitchen on Ormeau Avenue, Belfast. She had been watching a band called Vacant Aluminium. She was found dead in shallow water at Ballyholme beach in Bangor, fifteen miles away, at six a.m. on the morning of Thursday 26 April. She’d been stabbed three times in the back.
I wasn’t sure how similar her death was to Chloe Taylor’s. Erica was from Lisburn and had no Bangor connections; Chloe was killed in her place of work, in broad daylight. They were both young women who had been stabbed three times and killed. But that was not enough to link the two.
‘Okay,’ I said to Paul. ‘Let’s see what’s on Netflix.’
Chapter 5
‘The victim was stabbed with a hunting knife,’ Brian Quinn confirmed the next morning. ‘This is a slightly taller than usual man we were looking for. The victim was injured in the heart and died a quick death, she wouldn’t have known what was happening.’
‘Motives,’ said Chief Dunne. ‘Who do we suspect and why would they want to harm Chloe Taylor?’
‘There was the political angle,’ Carl Higgins said.
‘Now we need to investigate the personal,’ said Fleur Hewitt.
‘Couldn’t it have been random? What kind of knife was used at the pharmacy robbery?’ I asked.
‘A machete,’ said Sarge Simon.
‘Stop it! A machete? But what about Erica McClelland?’ I said. ‘Wasn’t she stabbed three times in the back?’
‘That was a kitchen knife, this was a hunting knife,’ said Higgins.
‘Does that matter?’ I asked. ‘Maybe the different weapons are an attempt to throw us off the scent.’
‘Go talk to the pharmacist again,’ said Superintendent Hewitt. ‘Sloane and Higgins, go this morning.’
*
‘I recognise her,’ Higgins said in the car.
‘Who?’
‘Erica McClelland.’
‘Where from?’
‘My gigs, and just the music scene in general.’
‘She was at the gig at The Night Kitchen; Vacant Aluminium,’ I said.
‘With her friends one minute, then gone. Eleven p.m. was the last anyone saw her,’ said Higgins, ‘they thought she’d gone to the toilets or something, then they thought she’d gone home … until she was found dead the next morning. In Bangor.’
‘What is your gut saying?’ I asked.
‘I doubt highly these are linked.’
‘Who is it usually, Carl? The murderer of young women?’
‘Intimate partner. Or the ex …’
‘No. I’m not thinking about her though, she’s Bangor’s problem.’
‘Very sweet of you!’ I said. ‘And there was me thinking you’d grown up a lot since we last worked together.’
‘I didn’t mean it to sound rude.’
‘It did.’
‘I’m just thinking about our case. About Chloe.’
‘And I’m thinking about her ex,’ I said, taking a left. ‘We need to track down Lewis Skelly and see what he has to say for himself.’
‘Harry, Mayhew’s is back there,’ said Higgins, turning to look over his shoulder.
‘We’ll go later.’ Fleur Hewitt was not going to tell me what to do. ‘We’re going to see Lewis. Lizzie called the station this morning.’
‘Lizzie who?’
‘Chloe’s best friend,’ I said. ‘That’s how I got Lewis’ address. She also wanted to know if we had found the killer yet.’
He scoffed. ‘Hasn’t been twenty-four hours.’
‘Lizzie obviously cared for the girl. And not only that, people get mildly edgy when there’s a killer on the loose.’
‘I suppose they do,’ he said.
A young man sat smoking in front of the Orangefield address Lizzie had given me. He had jaw-length hair and wore a Pink Floyd tee.
‘Ah,’ said Higgins, ‘Floyd man, like him already.’
‘Thought you were strictly brit pop, Carl.’
‘Strictly rock and roll, Harry.’
I tried not to smirk in front of the young man. ‘Lewis Skelly?’ I asked him.
‘That’s me.’ He invited us inside.
‘How long did you date Chloe for?’ Higgins asked him, going straight for the kill.
‘Three years,’ Lewis said. ‘From sixteen years old to nineteen, or twenty.’
‘How did you meet?’
‘At a protest.’
‘What were you protesting?’ I asked.
‘The G8 summit meetings.’ He must have been uncomfortable when we stared at him, so he elaborated, ‘You know, putting profit before people, before our planet. I’m not so involved now, Chloe was. First time I saw her she was holding her placard over her head in Custom House Square.’
‘Unusual place to meet a potential date,’ I said, adding a smile to try to put him at ease, trying to slow it down a tad.
I thought of Paul and how we first met in the kitchen that is now ours, and how random life is, how it is impossible to tell who will mean anything to you when you first meet them.
‘Tell us more,’ I urged Lewis; I wanted his words at his pace. He seemed calm but his hands were shaking. He needed to trust us. ‘Get them to trust you, but don’t let them think you’re their friend,’ Father used to tell me.
‘She stood out,’ said Lewis. ‘Her hair was dyed teal. That’s what she called it, I called it blue. It was raining and Chloe was worried the colour would run. That’s what we were talking about.’
‘What month was that?’ Higgins asked.
‘June, five years ago, going on,’ said Lewis.
‘The summit, 2013,’ said Higgins. Impressive that he remembered.
‘We were friends for a couple of months,’ said Lewis, ‘then we became something more serious.’
‘When did your relationship change?’ I asked.
‘Yeah. Definitely that September.’
‘And ultimately, you split up?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Why was that?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did Chloe finish things?’ asked Higgins.
‘She did.’
‘And you have no idea why?’
‘Yes and no; lots of things happened.’
‘Like what, Lewis?’
‘It was never easy.’
‘You were young, too,’ I said.
‘Yeah, I suppose. There was that …’ said Lewis, stopping.
‘You’re twenty-one now, same as Chloe?’
‘Right.’
‘And what do you do with yourself, Lewis? Work? Study?’
‘I am studying a foundation degree, it’s at, erm, Belfast Met.’
‘Which campus?’ asked Higgins.
‘Millfield.’
‘Had you any concerns about Chloe?’
‘Yeah, always. The first day I met her, for a date, proper date, that September, her mum Glynis had just been sectioned and that was difficult for Chloe.’
‘How long was Mrs. Taylor in hospital?’
‘A month, something like that.’
‘And this affected Chloe quite a lot?’
‘Yes. A few months later her mum moved out completely. She would refuse to take her medication, so it was hard for all of them.’
‘Did she keep in touch?’ I asked.
‘They tried for a while. At least, Chloe tried. Jackie didn’t want Glynis mentioned in the house. Chloe couldn’t talk to him about her … or anything else.’
‘And after that?’
‘Two years later … Chloe started studying Law at Queens, then she was selected to be on the Young Leaders UK programme. Chloe had the chance then to question world leaders and travel a bit.’
‘That sounds positive.’
‘It was. At that stage.’
‘What changed?’
‘It probably changed when she was studying for exams and she received these Facebook messages.’
‘Okay …’
‘They were really nasty, and I don’t know, Chloe sort of had a breakdown over it.’
‘A mental breakdown?’ asked Higgins.
Lewis nodded. ‘She saw what happened to her mum and she got depressed, tried to sign herself into a mental ward but they wouldn’t take her.’
‘How did Chloe seem to you at this stage, looking back?’ I asked.
‘Sad. Crying all the time. Not like herself.’
‘What did her family say?’ asked Higgins.
‘I told Jackie, he sat and listened, but he looked really angry. He always looks angry. He took her, made sure she got help, but the waiting list was crazy, so they went private. He helped Chloe, but I think he held that against me, me telling him.’
‘What were the Facebook messages about?’ I asked Lewis.
‘Just sexist shit. Some sad keyboard warrior. No name. I had a look to see if we could work out who it was.’
‘Did Chloe go to the police?’ asked Higgins.
‘No. She didn’t think it was something you could do anything about.’
‘We would have tried our best,’ I said weakly.
‘Cool.’ Lewis raised his eyebrows with a disbelieving look.
‘Have you been to the Taylors’ house since?’
‘Doubt I’m welcome. Jackie never acknowledged me at hospital, or anywhere else.’
‘You mean the mental health hospital,’ said Higgins.
‘That’s what I mean. Not that she was in for long, she was an outpatient, in the main.’
‘Her brother? Thomas? Do you talk to him?’
‘No. Thomas is painfully shy, like, and a bit of a loner.’
‘How long was Chloe in hospital?’ asked Higgins.
‘A few days here and there … then she was an outpatient. Then she disappeared.’
‘Where to?’
‘Took a gap year and went travelling.’
‘Nice. Where did she go?’
‘Around Europe. France, Spain. I hardly heard from her then. When she came home that March she called things off, but we hadn’t spoken in so long I knew it was over.’
‘Who did she go away with?’
‘I have no idea. She just got distant and weird.’
‘You fell out?’
‘No. Chloe never fell out with people. She did … she did … love me.’ Lewis’ voice cracked on the word. ‘It was mutual when we ended. We decided that if it was meant to be … but that we’d focus on ourselves for a while.’ We were about to leave him when he said, ‘Dete
ctive, tell Thomas I’m sorry.’
‘I’ll pass on your condolences, Lewis.’
*
‘I like him, he seems sweet,’ I said as I drove away.
Higgins laughed.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘You’re a judge of his character now, are you?’
‘No, obviously I get it wrong, from time to time.’
‘You talking about me?’
‘No, I am not talking about you. You’re obviously an ass.’
‘Thanks,’ Higgins said. ‘Textbook Sloane.’
‘No worries,’ I told him. ‘And I don’t want to pull rank on you, Carl, but in future ease up on the interruptions.’
‘Yessir.’
‘And slow it up a bit.’
But I was flattered. I knew Carl was trying to impress me.
*
We went to Summerhill to talk to Jackie.
‘We’ve spoken to Lewis Skelly,’ Higgins told him.
‘Is he okay?’ Jackie replied in a whisper. He had a delay in his movements.
‘He’s upset,’ I said.
‘Lew’s a good kid,’ said Jackie.
‘You like him?’ asked Higgins.
Jackie turned and looked at us properly, became more alert. ‘Like him a lot. Why do you seem surprised?’
I changed the subject, ‘Lewis mentioned that Chloe went travelling in her gap year.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Where did she go?’
‘Europe.’
‘Whereabouts?’
‘All over,’ Jackie said before taking a deep breath. ‘She asked for her bank account details, it was a trust fund for her wedding one day. Chloe said she didn’t believe in marriage, and I said, ‘‘Go on then, go to Europe, if it’s something you have to do’’.’
‘And her friends went too?’
‘It was organised through her university. I remember … a June, and a Beatrice … they’re names that stand out, like, old-fashioned names, I thought at the time. A handful of them took a gap year and did this.’
‘What about Lizzie?’
‘Oh, her. No. She’s a lot older and not at university.’
‘Do you know Lizzie well?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know Lizzie at all. That was the first time I met her, yesterday.’
‘I heard Chloe had a spell where she was worried about her mental health.’
Problems with Girls (DI Sloane Book 2) Page 3
