Silent Voices

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Vera and Holly met Freya from Newcastle College at lunchtime. ‘Important to keep our options open,’ Vera had said, though she couldn’t stop thinking about Connie and her daughter. Another child to worry about. Patrick, Elias and now Alice. Somehow that must be relevant. She wished she were cleverer and could make sense of it. She blamed herself too, of course, for missing Connie that morning, for putting her belly before the investigation. She knew that Ashworth blamed her too.

So they’d driven into the city and parked illegally in one of the little streets near to the Rye Hill campus, outside a wholesale warehouse stocking Chinese food. The scent of spice in the air. They were on their way into the drama department when they saw Freya coming towards them, alone among the other students, who were giggling on their way to find lunch. Vera recognized the girlish way of walking that was close to dancing and the printed frock, this time worn over jeans with a jacket on the top. Freya didn’t see them until the last minute. She had her mobile phone to her ear, chatting to a friend as she walked about some play they’d been to see. Her face was bright and Vera could have wept for her.

‘Hello, pet.’

They swept her with them into a coffee shop, a greasy spoon with pretensions. Now the smell was of frying and of coffee from the big silver espresso machine.

‘You’ll be peckish,’ Vera said. ‘Now you’re eating for two.’

And it seemed that Freya was hungry. Morgan might be vegetarian, but the girl managed a full English breakfast and a mug of tea. The sausage and bacon disappeared in seconds.

‘You never told us you were in the Willows the morning the social worker died.’ Vera struggled to get the words out. She’d gone for a piece of flapjack, so sticky that it worked like superglue around her teeth.

Freya looked up. Big eyes, suddenly scared, over the mug. ‘You didn’t ask.’

‘Howay, we shouldn’t have needed to ask now, should we? A clever girl like you, you’d have guessed we’d be interested.’

‘Michael said you might draw the wrong conclusion.’

‘He was there that morning too, was he?’ Holly chipped in, out to prove she wasn’t just here for the ride. Vera couldn’t blame her for that. Nothing wrong with a bit of ambition in a woman. ‘Was the session for partners too? Great that he wants to be so involved with the baby.’

‘It was an exercise class.’ Freya seemed to have relaxed. Perhaps after all she was just as stupid as Mattie Jones had been, but she hid it better. ‘Not for the fathers. Michael will come along to the antenatal group, of course. We’ve planned a completely natural childbirth. One of his friends is an independent midwife and we’re having the baby at home. Hiring a birthing pool and everything. But he just gave me a lift that day.’

‘I suppose he used the time to catch up on some work.’ Holly gave an encouraging little smile. Vera thought she was as bored by the details of motherhood as Vera herself and was glad to move the conversation on.

‘I guess so.’ But Freya was suspicious again. Had Morgan warned her on the subjects to avoid, if she were questioned alone?

‘Where did you meet up?’ Vera asked. ‘After the class, I mean.’

Silence. It seemed Morgan hadn’t given her the answer to that one.

‘Was he waiting in the car for you?’

‘I can’t remember.’

Vera paused until a waitress in torn jeans had swung past carrying a plate of bacon and eggs for a couple of labourers at the next table.

‘Of course you can, hinny. And we’ll find out anyway. A place like that, there’ll be CCTV in the car park and a load of witnesses.’ Although the CCTV tape had run out the night before the murder and nobody had bothered to replace it. ‘Much better if you give us the information yourself.’

Freya looked cornered. She made Vera think of the traps gamekeepers used in the hills. A wire mesh cage with a crow inside to lure in other raptors. Was it right to be using Freya as their decoy?

‘We’d arranged to meet in the car,’ Freya said. ‘But when I got out of the class he wasn’t there.’

‘What time was that?’

‘The class finished at ten.’

‘So what did you do?’ Holly asked. ‘Did you go to look for him? It’d be a good chance to bump into your old friends from work. Maybe grab a coffee, catch up on some gossip?’

‘I don’t have much in common with those people any more.’ That was Morgan, Vera thought, speaking through Freya’s lips.

‘So where did you go? To Michael’s office? Perhaps he’d got caught up in his paperwork and lost track of the time?’ This time it was Holly who was putting words into the girl’s mouth.

Poor child, Vera thought. She’s nothing but a ventriloquist’s dummy.

‘I phoned his mobile,’ Freya said. ‘I knew he wouldn’t want me wandering round the hotel. He says some of the girls there are a bad influence. So I phoned him.’

‘And?’ Holly was close to shaking the girl now. Vera thought she’d have to learn some patience. Vera was more concerned by the substance of Freya’s answer. What right did this man have to choose her friends?

‘And nothing. He didn’t reply. I waited. He turned up not long after and drove me home. I didn’t have college that day. It was still the Easter break.’ She sounded sulky, like a spoilt child. Vera thought there’d probably been a row in the car on their way back to the coast.

‘Did he explain why he was so late?’ Holly asked.

‘He said it was none of my business. Something to do with work. I thought perhaps Mattie Jones was hassling him again. She’d started phoning from the prison and it drove him crazy.’

No, Vera thought. Not Mattie. She was in hospital having her appendicitis pulled out. Jenny perhaps? Had she seen him, maybe while he was drinking posh coffee in the lounge, waiting for Freya’s class to finish? Had she asked for an interview for her book about the Elias Jones case, told Morgan she would write it anyway? Did he watch her go into the steam room from the viewing gallery, quickly change into his swimming trunks and kill her?

She was so caught up in speculation that she didn’t realize the others were staring at her. She saw herself through their eyes: ageing, ugly, slow. Felt their pity. And then experienced an energizing surge of confidence. I might not be young and bonny, but I’ve got brains, she thought. More brains than the pair of you put together. Another couple of days and we’ll have this sorted.

Early afternoon she was back at the Willows, powered by pride and caffeine and sugar. First she sat in the lounge, drinking more coffee, watching the punters. There were deep armchairs of leather and chintz. Easy to hide away from fellow guests, to carry on a conversation that wouldn’t be overheard. The waiters came to take the orders. No need to stand up or to queue at the bar. This was as anonymous a place as it was possible to imagine.

Her waitress was elderly, a caricature from a bygone age, stooped and almost deaf. Vera bellowed at her.

‘You’ll have seen photos of Jenny Lister, the woman killed here last week. Did she ever come into the lounge to have coffee?’

The waitress shook her head and walked off, but Vera wasn’t even sure she’d heard. Later, though, a lad turned up. Black trousers, white shirt, black waistcoat. An explosion of acne, made worse because he was blushing and nervous.

‘Doreen said you were asking about the woman that died.’

Vera nodded. She couldn’t trust herself to speak because she might cheer.

‘I think she was here that morning. I didn’t tell the police because I wasn’t sure. You know, I couldn’t swear an oath that it was that particular day.’

Vera nodded again. ‘But you think it was.’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Yeah. She came in quite often and always drank the same thing. Small, black decaff americano. I got it ready whenever I saw her coming.’ The blush deepened and Vera thought he’d fancied Jenny Lister, that he’d had adolescent fantasies about the older woman.

‘Did she meet anyone that day?’ Vera asked. ‘You’d remember that, wouldn’t you? Because there’d be another order too, besides the decaff, and that would be unusual.’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’d remember that. But she didn’t meet anyone.’ He paused. He didn’t want to stick his neck out, hated the idea of being wrong.

‘Anything you can tell me would be useful. An impression even.’

‘I thought she was waiting for someone.’ The words came out in a rush. He needed to speak before he lost his nerve.

‘Did she tell you she expected a friend to join her?’

‘No. But she looked up whenever anyone came into the room, kept looking at her watch.’

‘What time was this?’ Vera asked.

‘Early. Before nine o’clock. That was unusual too. Usually she came in after she’d been for a swim.’

‘How could you tell she hadn’t?’

‘Her hair was still dry. Usually it was a bit damp at the ends. Like she hadn’t bothered to use the hairdryer. And there wasn’t that smell of chlorine about her.’

‘Thank you.’ Vera gave him her biggest grin. ‘You should think of joining the police. You’re wasted here.’

Then she was off on the prowl again. No Karen on reception, of course. She was at home mourning her son. A skinny young woman who recognized Vera sat in Karen’s place and let her through without a word. She found Ryan Taylor in his office.

‘You’ll have heard about Danny Shaw.’

‘Of course.’

‘What’s the word in the hotel? They’ll all be talking about it.’ Vera perched on the corner of his desk. Looking down on his small round head, she saw his hair was thinning at the crown.

‘They’re scared,’ Taylor said. ‘Mrs Lister’s death, that was a bit exciting. Nobody really knew her. It’s like watching a horror movie on the telly, isn’t it? I mean, you quite enjoy being scared, but you know it’s not real.’

‘But Danny’s death was real?’

‘Yeah, we didn’t all like him, but we knew him. I suppose people are wondering who’ll be next. We’re all selfish bastards at heart, aren’t we?’

‘Anything else unusual here?’ Because something about his manner had made her suspicious. A bit like the young waiter, he was weighing up whether he should talk to her or not.

‘Lisa didn’t come in this morning. She was due in at eight. She rang in sick. I can’t remember the last time she was ill. Probably a coincidence.’

‘Sure,’ Vera said. ‘Bound to be.’ But that sent her on the move again. Back to her car with Lisa’s address on a scrap of paper in her hand. Another trip east towards the city.

Lisa lived with her mother in a small red-brick house on a council estate in the west end of the city. There was a view from the end of the street across a business park to the Tyne. Perhaps the father still technically lived there and was in prison, or perhaps he’d moved out. In any event there was no sign of him. Half the houses in the street were empty, boarded up, and it looked as if kids had been inside setting fires. Some of the gardens were piled with rubbish. But Lisa’s home was spotless. The grass on the small patch of lawn had been cut and there were pots along the path, planted with primulas. Inside, a smell of furniture polish and disinfectant that hit Vera as soon as the door was opened.

A woman stood there. She had Lisa’s small features and her hair might once have been blonde. Now the colour came out of a bottle and it hadn’t taken properly. Blotchy and uneven, the result was piebald, part chestnut and part brass. But who was Vera to criticize?

‘Is Lisa home, pet?’

The woman was only small, but she stood her ground like a fighting dog. She could smell police a hundred yards away.

‘She’s at work.’

‘No, she’s not.’ Vera let her tiredness show in her voice. The sugar rush and effect of the caffeine had worn off. ‘I’ve just come from there. Don’t piss me about; I’m not in the mood. Tell her it’s Vera Stanhope, and then let me in so that I can take the weight off my legs.’

And perhaps it was that last phrase that worked the magic. Lisa’s mam recognized the exhaustion of the working woman, stood aside and showed Vera into the smart front room, never used during the day except for visitors. At the same time there were footsteps on the stairs and Lisa was there. She’d been listening in. She was pale and thin.

‘I didn’t do it,’ she said. The words were out before she reached the foot of the stairs, spoken through the open door of the living room. ‘I didn’t kill Danny Shaw.’

‘Oh, pet, I didn’t think for a moment you had.’

‘I heard it on the news, and I thought everyone would believe it was me. Want it to be me.’

Vera saw then that this had been a wasted trip. Lisa had thrown a sickie because she couldn’t face the accusations of her colleagues. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I’ll arrest the killer, then they’ll have something else to talk about.’

‘Will you? You know who it is then?’

Christ, Vera thought, what can I say? ‘Another couple of days and it’ll all be over.’ She hoisted herself to her feet. Lisa’s mother was talking about tea, but Vera had a sort of promise to keep and she didn’t have the time. On the doorstep she paused and turned back to Lisa.

‘It was Danny Shaw doing the thieving, wasn’t it?’

Lisa nodded. ‘I saw him once in the staffroom. He didn’t know I was there.’

‘Why didn’t you tell anyone?’

She only shrugged, but Vera knew the answer anyway. Lisa had been brought up not to grass and, anyway, who would believe her?

Vera was getting into her car when her mobile rang. It was Joe Ashworth to say that Connie still hadn’t returned home and he was starting to worry.