The lost victim, p.18
The Lost Victim, page 18
38
It was 4.30am when Kate and Jake turned into Percy Circus in their hire car. There was a black taxi ahead of them, and it stopped outside the flat. Tristan got out and paid the driver. He was wearing an old white tracksuit, and Kate could see there was blood on the front of the hoodie and he had a bandage on the left side of his head. He was carrying a small paper bag. Kate pulled into the spot recently vacated by the taxi. Tristan came to the car door.
‘What’s going on?’ Kate asked when they got out.
‘Someone broke in,’ said Tristan.
‘Were you attacked?’
‘Sort of. I’m fine. Hey, Jake. Sorry about . . . you know,’ said Tristan.
‘Thanks,’ said Jake. Tristan gave him a hug.
‘Hang on, what do you mean you were “sort of” attacked?’ asked Kate, peering at the bandage on his forehead.
‘Can we go in? I’m freezing.’
Jake took his suitcase from the back of the car, and they followed Tristan. He opened the main front door, and when they were in the small hallway, Kate saw the front door to the flat was covered in a silver fingerprint powder, speckled around the door handle and keyhole.
‘I called the police and a paramedic came. They took me to Accident and Emergency,’ said Tristan. He opened the front door and switched on the light. Fingerprint powder was dotted around the walls, on the locked cupboard, and on the DVD shelf. Kate saw a five-kilogram dumbbell lying beside a dent in the wooden floor. ‘I used that in self-defence, but I ended up dropping it on my head,’ said Tristan. ‘When I came round a couple of minutes later, the intruder was gone.’
‘What did they say at the hospital?’ asked Kate, looking around the room and feeling dismayed.
‘I had a scan and tests. I’m okay, but I have three stitches and some antibiotics and painkillers,’ said Tristan, holding up the paper bag.
‘Okay.’
‘I don’t know how they – he – got in. After I spoke to you on the phone, I went to my room and fell asleep. When I woke up, the lights were off, and there was a man here in the living room looking around the shelf there. That cupboard door was open, and he went inside. I went to the door, and that’s when he attacked me and knocked me to the ground.’
‘Did you see his face?’ asked Kate.
‘No. It was dark, and he might have been wearing a balaclava. He was strong when he tackled me to the floor. Maybe a little shorter than me, but I’m pretty tall.’
‘What did the police say?’
‘They asked if anything had been stolen, which there wasn’t. My laptop and wallet were on the table, and this guy didn’t take them. By the time the police got here, he was gone. They think the intruder picked the lock, or had a key. There was no sign of forced entry. I’m sorry. I didn’t put the deadbolt on when I came back.’
‘Don’t apologise.’
‘The forensics officer arrived when they took me to A&E,’ said Tristan, indicating the fingerprint dust all over the walls.
Kate went to the cupboard door and tried the handle. ‘Are you sure this was open?’
He nodded. Kate could see Tristan and Jake were exhausted, and she’d never felt so tired in her life. The thought of having to find somewhere else to stay was too much. ‘Let’s check the doors, make sure they’re locked with the deadbolts on. The windows all have bars. Let’s try and get some sleep. It will be light in a few hours. Okay?’ Tristan nodded and went off to the bathroom. Jake went to the sofa and pulled off two huge cushions. ‘Will you take those cushions and sleep on the floor in Tristan’s room? I just want to make sure he’s okay.’
Kate woke late when the door buzzer sounded. She checked her watch and saw it was 2pm. She pulled on her jeans as the door buzzed again. Tristan’s door was shut, and Jake must have moved in the night, he was now snoring under a blanket on the sofa.
Maddie was standing on the doorstep when Kate opened the main door. She had a carrier bag hooked over her arm. Three photographers stood by the railing circling the small park, and they fired off their cameras at the sight of Kate, bleary eyed and dishevelled.
‘Kate. Hi. I had a call from the police about a break-in,’ said Maddie, her face etched with concern. She turned around to look at the photographers. ‘May I come in?’
‘Yes,’ said Kate, her voice still thick with sleep. Maddie came through to the hallway and closed the door. She was wearing a big brown duffel coat with a green snood. Her glasses started to steam up. ‘My son, Jake, is asleep on the sofa. We just got back late from Wakefield.’
‘I know about Peter Conway’s death. I’ve seen the papers,’ said Maddie, shaking her head.
‘It’s in more than one?’ asked Kate, realising the stupidity of the question as soon as she said it.
‘All the front pages, I’m afraid. Where does it leave us with the Janey Macklin case?’
‘I don’t know.’
Maddie shook her head again. ‘Is it frightfully strange for Jake?’ she asked, as she craned her neck ever so slightly, to try and see round the living room door.
‘Yes. Having these photographers following us isn’t fun.’
‘I suppose we’ll never know about all the things he did – Peter. Anyway, I didn’t come to talk shop. We can do that when you come in tomorrow morning for our weekly update. I just wanted to check that Tristan’s okay. The police said the intruder attacked him?’
‘Yes. But he’s okay. He had to have three stitches in his forehead.’
‘Oh, God,’ said Maddie, putting a hand up to her mouth. Kate noted she was wearing green mittens which matched her snood. ‘Poor chap.’
‘The police think that whoever did it picked the lock or had a key, to get through this outer door and the flat’s front door,’ said Kate.
Maddie stared at the fingerprint dust on the door. ‘Picked a lock?’
‘Or had a key.’
‘Well, I’m the only one with a key. We also have a key that Forrest uses when he lets in guests, and then two other keys, which you and Tristan have.’
‘Where was Forrest last night?’ asked Kate.
Maddie put her glasses back on, and she pulled a dismayed face. ‘Are you serious? He was with me last night,’ she said, breaking into a laugh of disbelief.
‘Sorry. It’s been a long, weird couple of days.’
‘Of course. That’s fine. But the door is okay? There’s no damage to the lock?’ she said, turning to check it.
‘No.’
‘This is usually such a safe place. There hasn’t been a break-in here for as long as I can remember. Well, I just wanted to check on you, and I’ve brought this,’ she said, holding up the carrier bag. ‘It’s my peach cobbler. The peaches are from my parents’ house in Kent. I didn’t know what to do, so I thought, bring dessert!’ She laughed awkwardly.
‘Thank you,’ said Kate.
‘Right, I’ll let you be. And of course, if you need anything, just shout.’
Kate went back inside and heard the photographers yelling questions, and Maddie trilling, ‘No comment, sorry!’ Kate peered out of a crack through the blinds and saw Maddie getting into a car Forrest was driving.
A little while later, Tristan ventured out to buy food and all the newspapers. It was as Kate feared: not only did every tabloid dredge up Peter Conway’s crimes, but there were several lurid articles about Kate, and Jake’s parentage. More than anything she wished she were back in Ashdean, far away from everything, with her own space to walk on the beach and swim in the sea. Around 4pm, Kate made them all eggs and bacon, which they finished with the peach cobbler with some ice cream.
‘I’m going to have a shower,’ said Jake, pushing out his chair and getting up. ‘Thanks for the food, Mum.’
Jake went out to use the bathroom and closed the door. Kate gathered up the dirty plates and started to stack the dishwasher. Tristan waited a moment and then asked, ‘How is he?’
‘I don’t know. He spent an hour on the phone to Olivia when you went out for the papers, but I don’t know what they spoke about. He seems okay. Maybe we need a distraction.’
She went to the DVD shelf and started to look for something to watch. Tristan went to the blinds on the living room window and lifted them a tiny crack. ‘Five photographers. They all look frozen,’ he said.
The toilet flushed, and a minute later, Jake poked his head out of the bathroom door. ‘Is there a spare towel, Mum?’
‘There’s a dry one on the top of the heated rail,’ said Kate, staring at the line of fingerprint dust on the bottom shelf. ‘DVD boxes . . . Have you looked in any of these?’
‘No. I haven’t had time to watch anything,’ said Tristan. ‘We just arranged a few of them for that photographer.’
‘And we’ve assumed they all contained DVDs?’
‘Yeah.’
Tristan came over to the shelf. Kate pulled out one of the DVDs on the first shelf and opened the case. It contained a disc. Tristan pulled out another one, and then they started to work along the shelves, pulling out the boxes, checking behind them and inside. On the second shelf, Kate pulled out a DVD for the film Gigli. The box felt heavier. She opened it, and taped inside was a small digital voice recorder, no bigger than a slim cigarette case. The small screen showed the seconds counting and that it was recording.
A look of alarm passed between them. Tristan leaned over to switch it off.
‘No. Prints,’ said Kate. He went and got his backpack. He put it on the sofa and took out a pair of latex gloves and a clear plastic evidence bag. Using the tip of a biro, Kate switched off the voice recorder. There was a beep, and the counter stopped.
‘I’ve seen these before. It’s voice activated, and it holds a couple of thousand hours of audio.’
‘It’s showing it’s been running for fourteen hours,’ said Kate.
‘Which would be from when that intruder broke in last night,’ said Tristan. ‘Whoever it was, they were doing something on this shelf when I saw them. I only saw their shadow. How high up was the DVD?’
‘It was on this shelf at eye line,’ said Kate. She examined the box. ‘Look, there’s a square of plastic missing on the back.’
Tristan took the DVD box from her. ‘It’s so there’s only the DVD inlay paper covering the microphone,’ he said.
‘Do you think whoever broke in had a key and expected the flat to be empty?’
‘And what if it’s not the first time someone has broken in?’ said Kate.
39
‘We need to call Varia Campbell,’ said Kate, holding the bagged-up voice recorder. Tristan still had his backpack and took out the skeleton keys. He went to the locked cupboard door, and tried the handle. He knelt down by the keyhole and peered inside.
‘I’d forgotten with everything that happened. When I followed the guy to this cupboard and the door was open, it looked bigger inside than you’d think.’
‘What can you see?’ asked Kate.
‘Nothing. It’s dark.’ He unzipped the leather wallet with the selection of lock picks and skeleton and bump keys. ‘It doesn’t look very sophisticated. I think a bump key would get it open without doing any damage,’ he said.
Tristan tried one of the bump keys. He turned it slowly. ‘No.’
He withdrew it, and Kate put the voice recorder on the table and joined him. She knelt down, activated the torch on her phone, and peered through the keyhole. ‘Try a rake key.’
Tristan selected one of the silver keys with a serrated edge. Kate sat back on her heels, and he slipped it into the keyhole. The lock sounded well oiled. The rake key turned with a click, and the door opened with a creak.
A cold blast of air gusted into the living room, carrying a strong smell of perfumed air-freshener. It wasn’t a cupboard at all – it was a short passage with a set of stairs leading down.
‘Maddie told us this was their cupboard for storing bedding and towels,’ said Kate.
There was a light switch inside the door, and Tristan flicked it on. The wooden staircase curled around a corner. The air seemed to crackle with excitement as Kate and Tristan stepped inside.
They went down the narrow staircase and found another light switch. The stairs opened out into a large basement with crumbling plaster walls, lit by a single dingy bulb. Stacked up against one wall were sacks of cement, an old wheelbarrow, spades, and buckets.
Kate angled her phone light up to the ceiling. There was a line of solid gel air-fresheners in their little plastic housings lined up along one ledge on the wall. The floor was uneven and made of bare concrete.
‘The smell is a bit much,’ said Tristan, putting his arm over his mouth and nose.
‘And they’re all lemon scented, which makes it worse,’ said Kate, putting her arm over her own mouth and nose and feeling the sting of the chemicals in her eyes.
‘There’s thirty sacks of cement,’ said Tristan.
‘A wheelbarrow.’ Kate knelt next to a plastic storage box tucked between the wheelbarrow and a couple of buckets and opened the lid. ‘This looks like overalls for doing painting and decorating.’ She lifted them up and pulled out rolls of bin liners and packets of wet wipes, and then at the bottom, she found a couple of large square packages. ‘Tris. Look.’
He came over to where she was crouching down, and she held up one of the plastic-wrapped packages.
‘White chlorine-free body bag – adult size,’ he said, reading the sticker on the packet. He picked one of them up.
‘Adult standard size, ninety by two hundred and forty centimetres. Reinforced polythene, with stitched seams, leak resistant. Includes three paper toe tags and adhesive biohazard pouch. And there are four,’ said Kate. She’d now taken everything out of the plastic box. ‘There are a load more air-fresheners in their boxes. The same lemon-scented smell.’
Tristan looked around the concrete basement. ‘Forrest and Maddie? No. This doesn’t make sense.’
‘What about all these air-fresheners? There’s ten on that ledge?’
Kate swung her phone torch around. She lit up a wet patch running along the wall on the right-hand side, and there was some black mould peppering the damp. There was also a damp patch in the floor, around where the concrete dipped unevenly.
‘It could be to deal with any smell it’s making in the rest of the flat? Listen. Without the body bags, this is all building stuff,’ said Kate.
‘They’ve hired us as private investigators,’ said Tristan.
‘Like I said. There could be an explanation for all of it. They want to do building work on the place. Maybe they got overalls mixed up with body bags when they ordered online. Can you order a body bag on Amazon?’
Tristan checked on his phone.
‘Yes. You can,’ he said a moment later. ‘Okay, this is the actual description: “Body bag for dead people . . . Waterproof human bag with four reinforced handles.” Eighteen ninety-nine plus free delivery.’
Kate leaned over to look at his phone.
‘With a four-point-six-star review average. And they come in four colours: white, black, coffee, and beige. Even though this is very strange, we can’t jump to conclusions, Tris,’ she said. He took photos, and then she started to pack everything back into the box.
Tristan noticed something in the corner. It was the packing from a sandwich, bought from Tesco supermarket, and an empty can of Coke. He picked up the sandwich packet.
‘The use-by date on this is three days ago,’ he said. ‘Was someone spending a lot of time down here, when we were upstairs in the flat?’
40
The next morning, the press photographers were gone from outside the flat. Kate and Tristan took the train over to High Street Kensington for their first weekly meeting with Maddie and Fidelis at the offices of Stafford-Clarke.
The office was much busier than it had been when they met in December, and despite them being bang on time, a receptionist asked them to wait in a small, chilly room just off the entrance which was filled with books and easy chairs.
Tristan popped a couple of painkillers out of a foil packet and took them with a swig of water.
‘You okay?’ she asked. He’d removed the gauze compress from his forehead and covered the stitches with a small flesh-coloured plaster. He touched it lightly with his fingers to make sure it was sticking.
‘It feels better today.’
The front door buzzed, and they heard the click-clack of heels on the wooden floor.
‘India, darling! How are you?’ said a booming male voice.
‘Cold. This weather!’ There was a lot of mwah-mwahing as they air-kissed. ‘I’m sorry the heating’s on the blink. Come upstairs. Julian’s ready for you, with a gas heater!’ Their footsteps retreated upstairs.
‘I feel like we’re waiting to see the headmistress,’ said Tristan.
‘She’s not going to like what we have to say.’
They heard a door open, and then Fidelis’s assistant, Sophie, poked her head around the door. ‘Morning. They’re ready for you.’
Fidelis was waiting to greet them in her office, which was very cold. She wore another one of her tabard-style dresses, which were very baggy with lots of pockets, and she had on thick woollen stripy socks and slippers. Maddie and Forrest sat on wooden, high-backed chairs next to Fidelis’s desk.
‘Hello, we didn’t know you would all be here,’ said Kate as Forrest stood up. Despite the cold, he was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt open at the neck and moccasins with no socks. Maddie, in contrast, had on denim dungarees with a huge, thick fleece jacket and green UGG boots. They all air-kissed, which felt completely at odds with the nature of the meeting they were about to have.
‘I do hope you’re not too shaken up?’ said Fidelis. ‘We heard about the break-in.’
‘The police sent someone who fingerprinted the whole flat,’ said Kate.
‘Really? That’s optimistic,’ said Forrest.
