In cold blood, p.8
In Cold Blood, page 8
‘I called in at the school on my way home,’ she said. ‘To see the art exhibition.’
‘What did you think to Ellie’s work?’
‘Brilliant,’ she said. ‘Really good. They were the best pieces on show.’
Pride played with the edges of Nathan’s lips. ‘I agree,’ he said. ‘Then again, I suppose we’re biased.’
‘That’s true.’ Isabel rinsed the dishcloth and folded it into a neat square. ‘Did you know she’s been hanging out with someone called Lily?’
‘Yes, she’s new to the area apparently, started at the school at the beginning of term. She’s been here a couple of times after school. Seems nice enough.’
‘You’ve met her? When was this?’
‘Earlier last week,’ Nathan said. ‘She called round while you were at work. She didn’t stay for long.’
‘Right.’ Isabel tried to sound nonchalant, but inwardly she was chastising herself. Here she was again, playing catch-up. She wished she could be more like Nathan, tuned in to what Ellie was doing. He was so much better at the whole parenting thing. Always had been.
‘Dinner’s ready to serve up,’ he said, giving the pot one last stir before turning off the heat. ‘I’ll give her a shout.’
‘It’s OK,’ Isabel said. ‘I’ll go up and get her.’
***
She found Ellie sprawled across her duvet with her earphones in. Sure enough, she was writing in a notebook and there was a history textbook open on the pillow.
‘Ey up, love. How’s it going?’
‘OK,’ she said, removing one earphone. ‘Checking up on me, are you?’
‘As a matter of fact, I came to tell you that I went to see the school art exhibition on my way home. I was massively impressed with your pieces. I’m very proud of you, but you know that already, right?’
Ellie grinned and frowned at the same time.
‘I spoke to your art teacher while I was there. He was full of praise for your work. He thinks you’re really gifted.’
Ellie accepted the compliment self-effacingly, but the quick smile she flashed suggested it had pleased her.
‘I hear you have a new friend … Lily.’
‘Yeah.’ Ellie sat up. ‘I like her. She’s nice. She’s asked if I want to go to her house after school tomorrow. They’ve asked me to stay for dinner.’
If I hadn’t mentioned Lily, would Ellie even have bothered telling me about this? Isabel wondered.
‘That’s nice of her, although perhaps we should speak to her parents before you go over to her house. Where does she live?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘We need to know where you are, Ellie.’
‘Everything’s cool, Mum. Dad knows where Lily lives. He’s met her already.’
‘I know. He told me. Does he know you’ve been invited to her house tomorrow?’
Ellie picked up her phone and began to scroll through something on the screen. ‘I was going to tell him tonight. Lily’s going to ask her mum to send Dad a text, to let him know it’s OK for me to go.’
Unaccountably, Isabel felt left out. Snubbed.
‘Talking of dinner,’ she said, pushing aside her hurt feelings, ‘the other thing I came to tell you is that Dad’s ready to serve up, but I can ask him to hold off for a while, if you want to finish your essay.’
Ellie slapped her notebook shut, pulled out the other earphone and leaped off the bed.
‘No, you’re all right. He’s done a chicken curry and I’m starving.’
As she watched her daughter tear down the stairs to the kitchen, Isabel realised she hadn’t seen her in such an upbeat mood for ages. Such unbridled cheerfulness pleased Isabel. Perhaps this new friend was exactly what Ellie needed.
***
A text buzzed on Isabel’s phone as Nathan was serving second helpings. Glancing down, she saw it was from her mother, and decided to ignore it until after they’d finished eating. After all, she was the first to complain if Ellie used her mobile at the table.
She left the text unopened until after she and Nathan had done the pots. They rarely used the dishwasher, preferring instead to stand side-by-side and talk as they washed and dried. It was ‘their time’: a chance to catch up on their respective days.
‘Mother’s sent me a message,’ Isabel said quietly, after they’d finished discussing the sense of relief she’d felt when she’d found out the body wasn’t her father’s.
‘Did she say any more about your dad?’
‘I don’t know, I haven’t read it yet.’ She tossed the tea towel over her shoulder after drying the last piece of cutlery. ‘I didn’t want to spoil our meal together. I’ll go and read it now, see what she has to say for herself, then I’ll ring her. She owes me some answers.’
Isabel put the plates and glasses away and then went to sit in the garden room. Outside, cold autumnal rain was tapping on the windows and, after lighting the wood burner, she settled back into the closest armchair to get warm. Pulling out her phone, she opened the text message from her mother.
It’s time I told you the truth. I need to see you, face-to-face. The things I have to say are too important to discuss over the phone. I’ve booked myself on a flight to East Midlands tomorrow. I land at 14.40. Please pick me up at the airport. xx
‘Shit!’ Isabel sat up and ran a hand through her hair.
Nathan came in, carrying a cafetière and two mugs.
‘Mum’s coming over,’ she said, shock resonating in her voice. ‘Tomorrow.’
‘Hell’s teeth.’ He stopped mid-stride and jerked back his head. ‘Tomorrow? Did you know she was planning this?’ He plonked the cafetière and mugs on the coffee table and dropped heavily onto the sofa.
‘No. She didn’t say anything about it when I spoke to her last night. She just refused to answer my questions and then hung up on me.’
Isabel felt conflicted. On the face of it, she was annoyed that her mother was imposing herself on them at short notice, but deep down she felt a sense of relief. The needy, insecure part of her soul yearned for answers that only her mother could provide.
‘Call me naïve,’ Isabel said, ‘but I thought she’d check with me first before booking a flight.’
‘It’s typical of old Babs. Act first and think later.’
‘She’d be livid if she heard you calling her old Babs.’
Nathan laughed. ‘Good job she’s not here then, isn’t it?’
‘Well, make the most of it, because she’ll be here soon enough – and she’ll need picking up from the airport. Her flight lands at 2.40 p.m.’
‘And you’re telling me this because …?’
‘I’ll be at work,’ Isabel said. ‘I’ve got visits scheduled for tomorrow.’
‘Contrary to popular belief, I also have a job.’ Nathan sat up and pushed the plunger into the cafetière with a tad too much force. ‘Just because I work from home doesn’t mean I can break off whenever it suits me. I do have deadlines to meet.’
‘I’m sorry. I know you do. Ordinarily, I’d text her back and tell her to cancel the flight, but this situation is anything but ordinary. It seems she’s finally willing to talk to me, but the only way she’ll do that is face-to-face. Part of me is dreading her coming over, but another part can’t wait for her to arrive so that I can find out about Dad.’
‘OK.’ Nathan sighed and began to pour the coffee. ‘I’ll pick her up, but make sure you finish work on time tomorrow.’
‘I will. I promise. I’ll even get a takeaway on the way home. It’ll save you having to cook.’
‘No, don’t do that,’ Nathan replied. ‘I’d prefer to be in the kitchen, out of the way. You need to have some time alone with your mother. You’ve got a lot to talk about.’
Chapter 16
The next morning Isabel pulled on her warmest running gear and let herself out of the house. She ran down the street and veered onto the lane that led to the fields above the town. The dawn had pushed aside a wet blanket of overnight rain, exposing a new day in all its brittle beauty. The sun was appearing shyly in a glowing sky, and delicate wisps of cloud trailed high above the copse at the top of the hill, drifting like white feathers. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. Isabel had the hillside to herself, which was exactly how she liked it.
She usually went for a run every couple of days, using the time productively by sifting through whatever was worrying her. With each step, she sorted things in her mind, categorising them as either significant or insignificant. As she pushed on up through the fields, she threw off the unimportant things, crushing them underfoot like dry, autumn leaves.
By the time she reached the top of the hill Isabel was pulling in deep, noisy breaths, but she felt refreshed and energised. For the first time in two days, her head was clear and she felt ready to face the day ahead.
***
She got to the office a few minutes before eight. By starting early, she hoped to be able to finish on time. Her mother’s imminent arrival would rule out any possibility of turning up late for dinner this evening.
DS Fairfax ambled into the office at eight-thirty. ‘Morning, boss,’ he said. ‘We got a good result on the armed robbery yesterday. Footage on the CCTV ties it in with a similar incident last week over in Derby. We’re bringing the suspects in for questioning later today.’
‘Great. Are you OK to do the interview?’
‘Yep.’ Dan gave her a thumbs-up. ‘I’ll get Lucas to sit in with me.’
‘Did I tell you he managed to get an address for me yesterday for Julie Desmond? She’s living in Melbourne. I think we should go and speak to her face-to-face. Is that OK with you?’
‘Melbourne?’ Dan looked surprised. ‘Sure. Not a problem.’
‘I’ve already given her a call,’ Isabel said. ‘We’re going today.’
Dan shuffled his feet. ‘What about the interviews this afternoon?’
‘No worries, as the Australians say. You’ll be back in plenty of time.’
When a puzzled frown creased Dan’s brow, Isabel decided it was time to put him out of his misery.
‘You didn’t think I meant Melbourne, Australia, did you?’ She released the pent-up laughter she’d been holding on to. ‘Julie Desmond moved back to the UK about twenty years ago. She’s living in Melbourne, Derbyshire. It’s a small market town in the south of the county.’
Dan smiled. ‘You had me going there for a minute, boss.’
‘Sorry, Dan. I couldn’t resist. Let’s wait for the traffic to ease off and then we’ll get going. We’re expected at ten-thirty.’
***
Isabel had arranged to visit Julie Desmond at her place of work, which was a hair and beauty salon on Melbourne high street. The exterior woodwork of the building was painted a de rigueur shade of gunmetal-grey, and the name of the salon – Jules – was etched in a minimalist typeface on a silver sign above the door. A metallic-blue BMW with a personalised number plate was parked directly in front of the entrance.
Isabel and Dan went inside and waited at a walnut-veneered reception desk, where a price list for a range of expensive hair and beauty treatments was prominently displayed.
A young woman approached them, wearing a name badge that identified her as ‘Daisy’. Her highly stylised eyebrows were too dark for her fair complexion; they clung to her forehead like a pair of hungry leeches.
‘I’m DI Blood and this is DS Fairfax. We’re here to see Julie Desmond.’
‘She’s expecting you.’ Daisy fluttered her eyelash extensions at Dan and pointed towards the rear of the building. ‘You’ll find her down there, in the office at the back.’
The salon was long and narrow with mirrored walls, cream leather chairs and a tall, glass shelf unit displaying a range of luxury hair products. Crossing the tiled floor, Isabel and Dan walked past a row of treatment rooms to a door marked ‘Office’. As it was ajar, Isabel felt no compulsion to knock. Instead, she poked her head into the room and smiled.
‘Julie Desmond? I’m DI Blood and this is my colleague DS Fairfax. We spoke on the phone.’
‘Yes. Of course. Please, come in and sit down.’
She and Julie were about the same age, but that’s where any similarity ended. Isabel’s own hairstyle was a flyaway fringed bob, whereas Julie sported a short, neat, precision cut. Its brown base colour was highlighted with flashes of chestnut, chocolate, caramel and blonde. The finished effect reminded Isabel of the wings of a house sparrow.
Julie was tall and thick-set but elegantly dressed in casual clothes – a long, white linen blouse over a pair of black designer jeans. A chunky pendant dangled from her neck.
‘You have a nice place here,’ said Isabel. ‘Very swish.’
‘Thanks. I have six salons actually. Soon to be seven. This is my favourite though – probably because it was my first.’
‘How long have you been in business?’ Isabel asked, as she and Dan sat down.
‘This salon opened in 1999. The others followed one-by-one over a period of about six years.’
‘That’s quite an empire. You must have a good head for business.’
‘I like to think so.’ Julie placed her elbows on her desk and steepled her fingers. ‘However, I don’t suppose it’s my business acumen you came here to talk about.’
Isabel held up her hands. ‘You got me there. We’re here in connection with the discovery of human remains at 23 Ecclesdale Drive in Bainbridge. We understand the property used to belong to a relative of yours. Celia Aspen.’
Beneath her subtle spray tan, Julie blanched.
‘Is it Aunt Celia?’
‘We’ve yet to formally identify the body,’ Isabel said, ‘but we don’t believe the remains are those of your aunt.’
‘Great-aunt. Celia was my great-aunt.’ Julie stood up and went over to the water dispenser in the corner of the office. ‘Whereabouts was the body found?’
‘In the back garden of the property,’ Dan told her.
‘I don’t understand. If it isn’t Aunt Celia, then who the hell is it?’
‘We were hoping you might be able to shed some light on that,’ Isabel said. ‘We know you reported your aunt missing, and we’ve also learned that she was visited by someone from Canada not long before she disappeared. Do you know who that was?’
Julie’s hand was trembling as she placed a cup of water on the desk and sat back down. ‘It was someone called Jim. An old friend from before the war, I think. Aunt Celia didn’t say much about him, other than he’d invited her to visit him in Canada.’
‘And do you know if she was planning to make that trip?’
‘I think she was seriously considering it. So much so that when I came back from my own trip to Australia and found that Celia wasn’t at home, I assumed that’s where she’d gone.’
‘Surely your aunt wouldn’t have gone off without telling you?’ said Dan.
Julie gave them a wry smile. ‘Telling me would have required a long-distance phone call, and Aunt Celia would have considered that an extravagance. She regarded the telephone as something to be abrupt on, to avoid racking up a big bill. She used her phone very frugally.’
‘According to the missing person’s file, you were away in Australia for three months,’ Isabel said. ‘I gather you and Celia spoke on the phone while you were away?’
‘Yes, that’s right. I rang her a couple of times at the beginning of my trip to check she was OK, but we didn’t talk for long. From her snippy tone of voice, I got the impression she wasn’t too fussed whether she heard from me or not – but let’s give her the benefit of the doubt. It’s possible she kept our conversation to a minimum to keep down the cost, even though it was me who was paying for the calls. Force of habit, I guess. Either way, I didn’t bother ringing her after the first week or so.’
‘But she could have written to you to tell you she was going away,’ Dan said. ‘Or left you a note to explain where she’d gone.’
‘Well, yes, and at the time it hacked me off that she hadn’t bothered. Then, when I found her passport and realised she hadn’t gone to Canada after all, I felt awful. Looking back, I appreciate she may not have been in a position to leave a note or give me a call.’
‘Did you try to get in touch with her Canadian friend?’ Isabel asked. ‘This Jim?’
Julie took a sip of water and cleared her throat. ‘No. I couldn’t find a phone number or address for him. Besides, there didn’t seem any point. I’d found Aunt Celia’s passport, so it was obvious she hadn’t left the country.’
‘Was there anywhere else she might have gone to?’ asked Dan.
Julie nodded. ‘There was a hotel in Torquay she visited from time to time, usually out of season. She’d jump on a train on the spur of the moment, turn up there, and stay for a week or two.’
‘And did you or the police check with the hotel?’ Dan said.
‘That wasn’t possible because I didn’t know exactly where it was that she stayed. Aunt Celia never told me the name of the hotel, I never asked and it wasn’t in her address book. The police did post an appeal in the local Torbay papers, but no one came forward with any information.’
‘Can you think of anywhere else your aunt may have gone?’ Isabel asked.
‘No, and believe me, I racked my brains at the time. If I’d had any inkling of where she was, I would have told the police or tried to find her myself.’
Isabel scratched her forehead. ‘I’ll be frank with you, Julie. I’m surprised at how you’re describing your relationship with your aunt. Am I right in thinking the two of you weren’t close?’
Julie smiled. ‘That wasn’t really an option with Aunt Celia. She kept people at a distance. As far as I know, she’d never been close to anyone.’
‘What about your grandmother?’ Isabel asked. ‘She and Celia were sisters. Weren’t they close?’
Julie laughed disdainfully. ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? We didn’t even know Granny had a sister until after she died. Aunt Celia saw the death notice in the paper and turned up at the funeral out of the blue. Mum and I couldn’t believe it when she introduced herself.’
