Liar Liar

108

Sharon Jackson’s face turned pale the minute she opened the door. Helen and DS Sanderson had left Southampton Central straight away and raced over to Naomie’s home in the cheaper part of St Mary’s. The look on the officers’ faces betrayed the seriousness of their visit. Normally Sharon would have fobbed them off – she was experienced at dealing with the law – but there was no wriggling off the hook today.

She sat on the sofa, a look of blank incomprehension on her face, as Helen informed her that Naomie was now a person of interest in their investigation. Sanderson had gone upstairs in order to verify Sharon’s assertion that her daughter was not at home. She had not yet returned, but Helen had pressed on nevertheless. For her part, Sharon Jackson was shocked by Helen’s line of questioning and pushed back hard.

‘You’re barking up the wrong tree. My Naomie would never do something like that. She loves kids.’

Helen let that non sequitur go and continued with her questions.

‘Where is Naomie now, Sharon?’

‘I’ve told you I’m expecting her back later, but it’s Friday, isn’t it… I don’t keep tabs on her.’

‘Clearly not. I’m going to need you to account for her movements on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights.’

Sharon suddenly looked less bullish, so Helen was quick to follow up.

‘Where were you? And where was Naomie?’

‘Tuesday night I was in and so was Naomie. Then we had a bit of a falling out and she left for a bit.’

‘What time?’

‘Around nine p.m.’

‘When did she return?’

‘Late. I’d gone to bed. I heard her come in, but I don’t know what time it was.’

‘And the other nights?’

‘I was out.’

‘Both nights?’

‘That’s not a crime, is it? I can’t spend my life here, I’ve got things to do, friends and that.’

‘And Naomie was here?’

‘She was when I left. We weren’t really speaking, so I don’t know if she stayed in or not. She said she was going to bed…’

Helen made a mental note to check for signs of internet use at the property, phone calls and so on – it wouldn’t be too hard to work out if Naomie had been at home or not.

‘Why weren’t you talking?’

Once again, Sharon suddenly looked coy.

‘We had a row.’

‘About?’

‘Man trouble.’

‘Hers or yours?’

‘Hers. She’s a moaning little brat. But that’s all she is, I swear. She’s had run-ins with the police before. A bit of shoplifting, but just kids’ stuff. She could never do something like this. She doesn’t have the balls.’

‘Has Naomie mentioned the fires to you?’ Helen continued.

‘No’ was the swift reply.

‘Did that strike you as odd? Everybody else in Southampton is talking about them.’

Sharon shrugged then said:

‘Naomie doesn’t follow the news, she’s not that kind of kid. Probably wouldn’t talk to me about it even if she did. We’ve never been… a good fit.’

It was said so matter-of-factly that for a moment Helen was speechless.

‘Who would she talk to?’ Helen said eventually. ‘Does she have friends? Anyone she hangs out with?’

Sharon thought about it, then said:

‘She doesn’t really have mates, she’s always been a bit of a loner, y’know.’

‘Where does she hang out, then?’ Helen repeated, insistent.

‘She goes to the library sometimes when it’s cold. Other than that she goes where she can get up to mischief. The pubs on Oakland Street, the Common, the skateboard park, the WestQuay centre, the parade…’

The list went on. Clearly Naomie wanted to be anywhere but home. Helen noted down the many locations down – intending to pass them on to the rest of the team at the earliest opportunity – but before she had finished Sanderson returned, clutching several different copies of the Southampton Evening News.

‘Found these in a plastic bag under her bed. A copy of this week’s editions which lead on the fires. There’s also cuttings from several of the national dailies about the attacks as well. I guess Naomie’s a bit more interested in these fires than she lets on.’

Helen was already on her feet and heading for the front door. At long last, they had a prime suspect.