‘Do you think she stabbed herself three times in the back?’ There was a fast turn in mood and tone from Jackie. He became suddenly sharp, suddenly aware.
‘Well, no, but …’
‘I don’t want to hear about that. It’s irrelevant.’
‘Can we speak to Thomas?’
‘Why? He knows nothing either.’
‘We need to speak to everyone who is close to Chloe,’ I reminded him.
‘You mean everyone who was close to Chloe.’ He looked broken. ‘Thomas is out. I’ll tell him you called.’
‘Just one more thing, Mr. Taylor,’ I said. ‘We located your daughter’s car in Lena Street.’
‘I don’t want it back at the house.’
‘What do you want us to do with it?’
‘Give me the keys,’ said Jackie.
‘They were in Chloe’s bag,’ I said. ‘We’ll give you everything together, at the same time.’
‘Drew will sell the car, he’ll sort it out. Where’s the clothes she was wearing?’
‘We need to keep them, for now. Sorry,’ I told Jackie. ‘Then you can get them back.’
‘Okay.’
‘And you want them?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I’ll do with them, or any of her … stuff. I can’t face her room.’
‘We just have to make you aware that the clothes she was wearing during the attack–’
‘The attack,’ he said, ‘the murder.’
I inhaled. ‘They had to be cut off … and they’ll have blood on them.’
‘I don’t want them,’ he said. ‘Her coat, though, Thomas says she went out wearing it in the morning. It had a picture of a tiger on the back.’
‘There was no coat at the scene,’ I said.
‘It wasn’t in her car?’ asked Higgins.
‘No,’ I told him.
‘When you find it, Thomas wants it.’
‘Can you describe it for me in more detail, please?’
‘Black, but light material, it had a tiger’s face on the back, red trim on the belt and the cuffs. Chloe got it on her travels. It was special to her, and he’d like it for that very reason.’
Chapter 6
By two p.m. we went to Mayhew’s pharmacy located on Newtownards Road, where the pharmacist told me what I had already read: a man dressed in jeans, a black jumper and balaclava, and brandishing a machete, said, ‘Give me everything, money, pills, or I’ll swipe your fucken head off.’
The pharmacist showed me the whole show on their CCTV.
‘It was on the news all evening,’ he said, amused.
I had been travelling home and had not seen it when it happened. Even I gasped when Jennifer Crothers, the woman who worked behind the counter, grabbed the machete from the would-be thief.
Just then she came out of the ladies drying her hands on a paper towel.
‘Here’s the hero herself,’ the pharmacist said, excusing himself to go and help a customer.
‘That was very brave of you,’ I told Jennifer, ‘but for future reference, we don’t recommend doing that.’
She scoffed. Jennifer was very slight, dainty looking with a hoarse voice and devilish laugh.
‘It’s done now.’ Jennifer laughed. ‘Too late for what-ifs. But, would I do it again? No, I probably wouldn’t.’
‘Congratulations, it worked,’ said Higgins.
‘Maybe you’ll see fit to nominate me for a wee medal, son. And I was on the TV all night.’ She laughed then Carl laughed.
‘God, are the police getting younger or what?’ she said to me, and I realised it was not me she was talking about but Carl.
‘I don’t think so,’ I said. I looked at him again and saw how young he did look.
I’d thought I didn’t look much older. Maybe I’m weathered now with raising twins. ‘We’re testing the machete for prints. We’ll be in touch as soon as we hear anything. Likelihood is that this person is in the system.’
‘Pitiful creature all the same,’ Jennifer said. ‘Must be hard-up. He was never going to use that thing, you know the way you can sense danger? He was no danger. Not that I wanna deal with that shite every day, a machete waved about in my face, but, let’s just say, I’m not fucken stupid, detective. I’m not gonna risk my life for the sake of a few quid,’ and out of the side of her mouth, ‘that isn’t even mine but your man’s.’ Jennifer rolled her eyes in the direction of the pharmacist.
Higgins laughed. ‘We’ll see what we can do about a medal all the same.’
‘You don’t think this was the same person that killed the girl up the road?’ she asked. ‘Now that would scare me, alright.’
‘That wasn’t a machete.’
‘There’s a glut of crime up and down this road,’ she said. ‘But imagine … Hey, maybe I should have taken some time off.’ Jennifer looked at me with concern.
‘You’ve been through a traumatic experience. No one would think poorly of you if you did.’ I understood, it was easy to say, but hard to do.
‘I don’t care what any one them thinks of me,’ she said then she deliberated for a while. ‘Hmm, maybe I have been through a traumatic experience. There are people who have received claims for less. But you know what I believe? If you live like that it comes back to bite you. I know people claim on their home insurance every year and then bad stuff is going on in their personal lives and I just think, there’s your payout. I truly believe that.’
‘It would make things much easier,’ I agreed. ‘Stick to the right side of the law and you’ll be fine.’
‘Aye, but there’s those that do and have hard lives too.’
Make up your bloody mind, I thought. I thought, you’re crazy, woman. Not brave but fully mad.
‘Let’s hope he gets his comeuppance,’ said Higgins.
‘Or help, Officer,’ Jennifer said. ‘As I say, must be desperate. It’s usually depression disguised, deep down.’
What could I say to that? Wasn’t she right? Maybe not so mad after all.
And I thought a lot about what she said when, shortly after, we went along Kings Road to Tullycarnet: a housing estate in Dundonald near the Ice Bowl. There we pulled up at Drew Taylor’s house: a red brick end semi with an extension that filled most of their previously-sizeable garden. There was a balding hedge closing off a small grassy area. A paved area which held a selection of small tricycles. Plant pots were dotted about. And in the corner, a wooden loveseat.
Two months shy of ‘silly season’ a loyalist flag waved over the front door, so I suspected that was where it lived all year round, just to shout, ‘Here, look at us, we support the union, proudly, every day of the year. They can take our flag down at the City Hall, but here it is. And it’s never coming down.’
Roxanne opened the door to us. In the living room on a cream-coloured sofa sat Drew playing with his phone, only looking up to see us before looking back down and straightening his legs out with a restless motion that carried up to his face.
It was an interesting face. Angular, pouty, photogenic. Any time he was ever in trouble, I would look at his picture a little too long.
Drew was sandwiched between two small sleeping children.
They lay kipping among purple and black cushions that matched the paper on the feature wall, where similarly coloured horizontal lines became waves the more you looked at them. The type that would make you seasick after a few bevvies. A massive pop art canvas depicting both the kids together and awake sat on the mantel.
In real life both children’s faces were crusty with red spots and pink splotches. The house smelled of calamine lotion.
‘Chicken pox,’ explained Roxanne.
The little girl was around three, and the little boy around the age of my twins. He had a beloved and abused teddy under his arm. It seemed the boy had a cold too, his face was also streaked with whitened snot-whiskers that Roxanne took to with a wet wipe when she noticed, careful not to wake him. She looked even more tired than Sylvia had.
&n
bsp; ‘Put that phone away, Drew, it’s so antisocial. I bloody hate it,’ Roxanne whispered, annoyed.
Drew looked at her and slowly turned off his phone and got to his feet. ‘Come in here,’ he said. In the kitchen scales were sitting out.
‘Doing some baking?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ he said, running his tongue over his teeth. ‘If I’d known you were coming I’d have baked you a cake.’
I raised my eyebrows at him and he leaned against the kitchen counter and blinked with disinterest.
He was a prolific drug dealer in the area, well known to us for his dealing and paramilitary activity. His guys liked him as a heavy but from what we could glean they didn’t love his dealing ways.
That was where his organisation drew the line, or some of them. The older brigade was not so keen on their officialdom being used as a vehicle to get kids hooked on narcotics.
‘What can I do you for?’ Drew said.
‘We just want to elaborate on what we were talking about. We want to find the individual who murdered Chloe.’
‘We all want that, sure.’
‘Are you close?’
‘I’m close to Jackie. His kids are alright, they aren’t my kind of people.’
‘In what way?’
‘Look at where they grew up and look at me.’
Roxanne had come into the kitchen to hear what was being said. ‘They’re the poor cousins, Drew’s side,’ she said in a lyrical voice, plaiting her hair that was swept over one shoulder. Avoiding looking me in the eye.
‘We need to hear from you, and you too …’ I said to the pair.
‘What do you want to hear?’ asked Drew jutting his chin.
‘Anything you think might be useful about your cousin.’
‘Surely Jackie told you all that.’
‘He told us quite a bit but we need to get a more rounded picture than one person’s point of view.’
‘But why come here?’ said Roxanne.
‘Chloe’s blonde mate told you everything you need to know,’ said Drew.
‘I don’t need you to be defensive, Mr. Taylor,’ I said. ‘We need justice for Chloe.’
‘He gets that,’ said Roxanne. ‘We’re here to help in any way we can, but I just don’t think we can … we barely ever saw her.’
Drew grumbled.
‘You last saw Chloe at Christmas?’ I asked.
‘I can’t remember. Officer …’
‘Detective Inspector,’ I corrected him when I noticed him wait for me to do it. But I didn’t think he was trying to wind me up, he seemed like he wanted to get it right and show us some form of respect, as people.
For the job we were trying to do.
‘You can see that I’m at home with my unwell children.’ Drew shrugged.
‘You are off work today?’ asked Higgins.
‘Yeah.’
‘Where do you work?’
‘The bakery, sure,’ he said.
‘Which one?’
‘Big Baps, in the village.’
Big Baps – ridiculous name – had closed down years before in Dundonald. I knew he was having a laugh, he didn’t work at all, only in being a member of a different kind of force.
‘I just want to leave my number with you,’ I said as kindly as I could, ‘so that if there’s anything you remember, or that you think to tell us, no matter how small it seems, you can call us.’
‘Yeah, I have your number: 999,’ Drew said and refused my card, so I handed it to Roxanne who was tutting at her husband’s ill manners.
‘We’ll get in touch if we can think of anything,’ she said, throwing her undone plait over her shoulder to unravel.
‘Are you friendly with Chloe?’ Higgins asked her.
‘Me? No,’ said Roxanne.
Drew looked angry.
‘Are you coping okay?’ I asked him.
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Drew said, looking spooked.
‘You’ve had a loss, even if you aren’t close Chloe’s still family.’
‘That’s true,’ said Roxanne, looking toward the door, to where the kids lay.
‘They are zonked out,’ I said.
‘Itch medicine wipes them out.’
Drew’s face softened a bit. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘but it boils down to this: I can’t even take the kids to the park, I’m being stopped by your mates.’ He was staring at me. ‘They want to look at my phone. Cause me hassle. I’m sick of it, hear me?’ There was a slight threat in his tone and the momentary respect he’d just shown me was gone.
‘Why do you think that is?’ asked Higgins.
‘I appreciate that, Mr. Taylor,’ I interjected. ‘We’re all on the same side here, today.’
Drew nodded, closing his eyes slowly.
‘Before we go I’d like to just ask what were you doing yesterday?’
‘You saw what I was doing yesterday.’
‘Early. Between ten and twelve in the morning.’
‘We went to The Bell,’ said Roxanne.
‘What is that?’ I asked.
‘The bar at Ballyhackamore?’ asked Higgins.
‘It’s a restaurant too,’ said Roxanne.
‘That was early,’ I said.
‘We had breakfast there, didn’t we?’ said Roxanne.
‘Our anniversary meal,’ said Drew. ‘It’s what you do when you have kids. When they’re sick and your mother-in-law works evenings. You take breakfast over dinner. So that’s where we were when Chloe was done over.’ He took his wallet from his kitchen counter and found the receipt. They paid at twenty past eleven.
We left the house quietly and on the way back to the station, outside Stormont, I told Higgins to take a turn. ‘Let’s call in on Jackie Taylor,’ I said.
He greeted us at the door, wringing his hands. ‘Any news?’ he said abruptly, rubbing his hands with his thumbs linked together.
‘No. Not yet,’ said Higgins.
‘I don’t want to come across as a louse,’ said Jackie, ‘but I’m not interested in having you two here day in day out unless you’re bringing news.’
‘We have questions,’ I told him. ‘Can we come in?’
We were invited in but not welcomed. Jackie reluctantly gestured for us to sit while he did the same.
‘Where were you yesterday?’ I asked him.
‘Are you serious with this?’ he said. ‘I was at work.’
‘What is work for you?’
‘I repair computers for businesses, largely for banks, so I’m out and about every day.’
‘And yesterday morning?’
‘I was in Danske Bank, the system was down. I was there from nine-twenty, roughly, for a couple of hours, then went to the drive thru at McDonalds. It wasn’t the breakfast menu.’
‘So, after ten-thirty?’ said Higgins.
‘Yes.’ Jackie’s eyes darted about. ‘Then I nipped into the shops to get … what? Milk, cereal and then I got the call about Chloe. The call that ruins your life. That one. The one that makes everything before it insignificant and pretty bloody unmemorable.’
He was hardened. Not that unlike Drew. What is with these men, I wondered, so fucken aggressive, even when you are trying to help them?
‘May we talk with Thomas?’
‘Hold on,’ said Jackie, he took his mobile from his trouser pocket and texted his son. Soon Thomas traipsed down stairs in a clatter.
‘Hi, Thomas,’ I said. ‘How are you?’
‘Okay,’ he said but he didn’t look it. He was as white as a sheet as he clutched his left bicep in his right hand.
‘We were speaking with Lewis.’
He raised his eyes as if, is that all? Can I be dismissed, Miss? You could tell he was not long left school; Thomas still saw us as adults, not equals.
‘Lewis said to pass on his condolences,’ I said, needing to see his reaction. Both boys seemed to have some sort of beef I didn’t yet understand.
‘Did he?’ asked Thomas.
‘Yes.’
‘Lewis bombarded Chloe with texts when they split and kept pestering her,’ said Thomas in a voice that wouldn’t wake a baby. ‘Bet he said he didn’t mean it. He’ll say he was just checking on her. But he didn’t care. He’d moved on.’
‘Now watch what you’re saying, son. I’m sure he still cares for Chloe,’ said Jackie.
‘Dad, I always see him at the Met,’ said Lewis. ‘He has a new girlfriend. Well, not exactly new because he was with her before. He had her when Chloe was away, too.’
‘Maybe they are friends then,’ said Jackie. ‘He has friends who are girls? Like you do. Like I do, for God’s sake.’
Lewis griped and held his side with both hands.
‘What are you studying?’ Higgins asked him.
‘Foundation studies in Art and Design,’ he said monotonously.
‘Where were you yesterday?’ I asked, feeling Jackie’s expression harden and his eyes on my face.
‘I had a free study period and was at home.’
‘Anyone else here?’
‘Like who?’ asked Jackie.
‘Maybe you study with a friend?’ I said.
‘No, I was alone.’ Thomas now grimaced.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked him.
‘Stomach cramps, is it, son?’ said Jackie. ‘Gets them when he’s anxious.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘None of this is nice for you, for either of you.’
Thomas’ face became even whiter. I feared he may throw up on my feet.
‘Drew says you called in to his gaff,’ said Jackie. ‘And obviously you’ve contacted Lewis …’
‘Yes, Mr. Taylor,’ I said.
‘Then you must have talked to Lizzie?’
‘We have. She has called the station.’
‘Why did she do that?’
‘To see if there was any progress.’
Jackie frowned. ‘Maybe you should see if she knows anything. She was very close to Chloe of late.’
‘We are planning on going there today.’
‘Do you have her address?’ he asked.
‘I was hoping you would give it to us, or a surname.’
‘I’m going to go and lie down, is that okay?’ asked Thomas. He was much quicker going up the stairs then he’d been coming down them.
Problems with Girls (DI Sloane Book 2) Page 4
