Ask Me No Questions Page 2

  Thea shrugged. ‘A few months?’

  ‘And you didn’t tell me?’ Thea didn’t reply. ‘Why did the police want to see you?’ Harry continued.

  ‘They think I did it,’ she said, her voice flat.

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Harry!’

  He shrugged, nonplussed. ‘The two of you haven’t exactly been on the best of terms.’

  Thea looked up at him as they walked. He was looking away from her, across the park, and she saw his strong features in profile. So familiar, yet still able to tie her stomach in knots. So much had passed between them over the years. So much shared history. He was the first person she had thought to call when she arrived at the police station. She hadn’t intended to but when they asked, she’d said his name automatically, reciting his number from memory.

  He carried on talking. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me. Sometimes I think the two of you are capable of anything.’

  ‘Fuck off, Harry,’ Thea said, dryly.

  They stopped at the furthest edge of the park next to a shiny new estate car, and Harry clicked it open. ‘Do you want a lift home?’ he asked.

  She looked up at him, taking in his hair, the rogue tuft stuck up at an odd angle at the back, his stubble, contrasting with his smart shirt and tie.

  ‘No, that’s okay, I’ll walk. You need to get back to work. Thank you for coming to meet me.’ She reached up and tried to smooth down the spiky bits of hair. ‘You need a haircut,’ she said.

  ‘I like it longer. Are you okay? You don’t seem yourself,’ Harry remarked, opening the car door. ‘I can’t remember the last time I heard you swear.’

  ‘Just don’t like police stations,’ she muttered.

  Harry gave her a quick peck on the cheek, pulling off his coat and passing it to her. It was an unspoken act, but the gesture made a lump form in her throat. He climbed into the driver’s seat and beeped his horn as he drove off. Thea lifted a hand to wave.

  She put Harry’s coat on, doing the buttons up to cover her chin and nose. It engulfed her, and she stopped for a moment, taking in the smell of him – his aftershave, mixed with cigarettes. She took a deep breath. It smelt of coming home. Of feeling safe and secure and belonging. She pushed down the strange feeling in her stomach, and turned to walk the few miles back to the house.

  Thea didn’t mind the walking. For the first time in weeks it was a beautiful winter’s day. It was cold, but the air was crisp, the sun reflecting down through the gaps in the buildings as she went.

  She needed to think. She’d had a headache since yesterday, and the conversation in the police station hadn’t helped. She regretted how she’d acted towards the detective; she’d been more aggressive than she should have been, but it had been the easiest way to keep her emotions in check. Hide the fear and the uncertainty behind a layer of cold arrogance. And seeing Harry had been – what? Too brief. Too sudden. She wanted to talk to him again but knew that she shouldn’t.

  Questions flew around in her head as she walked. Was her sister okay? How badly was she injured? Would she wake up? But she wasn’t sure she had the courage to visit her in hospital, to see her face to face.

  She rounded the last corner and started down the long street that led to her house. Tall elegant lime trees lined the road, cars parked haphazardly either side. The pavement was buckled from tree roots pushing through the concrete.

  The houses were far apart from each other, all surrounded by large gardens and high hazardous walls. Generally, the residents kept to themselves although, as Thea had just found out, having a loud argument with your sister on your driveway meant they wouldn’t hesitate to tell the police what had been going on. The neighbourhood cultivated an air of detachment and unease; nobody wanted to live near somewhere so infamous.

  Thea’s house stood back from the road, hidden from view by the overgrown hedge and the red-brick wall. As she walked she saw the chimney first, pushing up from the roof. It barely seemed strong enough to stay up, and it was always a worry when the wind blew and the house shook. The tall iron gates stood open; the bottom part of rusted metal stuck in the gravel of the drive. She paused at the entrance, taking it all in.

  The driveway took up the front part of the house, dotted with weeds and blending into the overgrown grass down either side. Thea’s trusty red Nissan Micra stood parked to the left, in front of the wooden double doors of the garage. It had always been the same. Thea’s relaxed attitude to gardening hadn’t done it any favours, but she remembered disappearing into the wild flowers in summer, spending hazy days out of sight, eating apples and pears pulled off the trees. More idyllic in hindsight than in reality; benign neglect had the advantage of being seen as freedom when viewed from a distance.

  Double-fronted, the house had dark dirty glass staring out from bay windows, a peeling red front door, decorated with a single brass knocker, and oversized grey brickwork. A long thread of ivy multiplied across the house, a tangle of thorn bushes in front. She knew its passageways and corridors as well as the lines on her face, both an integral part of her.

  She took a deep breath. Being at the house wasn’t something she enjoyed, but it was important she was here. She would have to put up with the old place a bit longer.

  As she stood preparing herself to go in, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye and took a step back out of the shadows of the gateway to look down the road. Two cars were parked there, with a third, a black BMW, idling on the opposite side. She could just make out someone waiting in the driver’s seat. As she watched the car, two pedestrians paused next to her at the gate. They were chubby, their faces rouged in the cold winter air, their hair unfashionable and frizzy. One of them had a street map in her hand.

  ‘Is this the place?’ one asked, and the other nodded, peering past Thea. ‘Do you know the people that live here?’ they asked her.

  She stared at them.

  ‘Are you—?’ one of them started.

  ‘Fuck off,’ Thea said, under her breath. Then louder: ‘Just fuck off, get out of here.’

  They recoiled and walked away as quickly as their short fat legs could carry them. ‘Was that …? Well, I never … So rude …’ Thea could hear them saying as they went back to their car parked on the other side of the road. She looked for the black BMW again, but it had gone.

  Thea frowned, then walked up the driveway, gravel crunching under her feet. She dug in her bag for the door keys, the same old door keys, unlocking the top and bottom bolts before the middle four-point lock. She pushed the solid door open with her shoulder and was greeted by a gust of cold fusty air. It smelt of old wood, damp walls and broken promises.

  Everything in her wanted to leave, to turn around and run away, never looking back. But she knew she had to stay, to find what she was looking for. It was here, it had to be. Hidden away all these years.

  It was time to face her past.

  She went inside.

  4

  Kate Munro pushed the door open to the operations room and took a deep breath. This wasn’t her first investigation by any means, but it was the one that had attracted the attention of the media, and the chief inspector to boot. People didn’t like it when pretty girls were attacked. People were watching, the chief had said, so she better wrap it up, and fast.

  She walked to the front of the room and cleared her throat. ‘So where are we today? Give me a summary.’

  The two DCs looked at each another, sheepish expressions on their faces. ‘Anything? Either of you? Briggs?’

  DC Jamie Briggs stared at his notepad. ‘We have her bag and driving licence. Now we’ve identified her, they’re down with forensics, see if we can get any prints from them. And we know she went to Heaven that night …’

  ‘Heaven?’

  ‘It’s a nightclub in town. Very trendy, very exclusive.’ That was why she hadn’t heard of it then. Briggs, with his skinny jeans and coiffed hair, seemed much more their usual clientele. Kate gestured for him to carry on. ‘We know she left at
approximately one-fifty a.m. We don’t know where she went or who she went with.’

  ‘Has anyone been down there?’

  ‘No, we were waiting for you. We only know the time from the CCTV cameras in the area. She walked down London Road alone, then up The Avenue towards the common, until the cameras lost her at two forty-six.’

  ‘Can we see?’

  DC Briggs turned his laptop round and they crowded around the screen. He moved the footage forward until the timestamp read 01.53 and they saw a sparsely dressed woman totter down the road. She was wearing a silver slip dress, spaghetti straps resting delicately on her shoulders, the material barely coming down to her thighs. Apart from a pair of dainty silver sandals and a small silver bag, she had nothing else on her.

  ‘She’s walked a long way. Do we know where she was going?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Her sister’s house is in that direction – perhaps she was trying to walk there? But that’s still a good mile from the common,’ Briggs commented.

  ‘What was the temperature that night?’ Kate asked, and he consulted his notebook.

  ‘Can’t have been more than five degrees.’

  ‘Christ,’ Kate said to herself.

  The woman on the screen wobbled away, bent over with her arms clutched round her body.

  DC Briggs flipped the camera view to show the next road, Gabriella moving quickly, then disappearing out of sight.

  ‘That’s all we have at the moment,’ he said, closing the lid on the laptop.

  ‘And how long was Gabriella out there?’ Kate asked.

  While DC Briggs looked at his notepad, the other officer chipped in. Kate had worked with DC Rachel Yates before – she was careful and detailed, all the things that Kate liked. ‘The 999 call came in at three fifty-three a.m., so we believe nearly two hours.’

  ‘No wonder she had hypothermia,’ Kate muttered under her breath. ‘And we don’t know who made the call?’

  Yates shook her head. ‘Tracking it down now.’

  ‘SOCO?’

  ‘Scene of crime collected anything they could from the area in the golden hour, then did a wider search where they found her bag,’ DC Yates continued.

  ‘Did they find anything interesting?’

  ‘Crisp packets, fag ends, the usual rubbish. A big rock with blood on it – we think it might be what she was hit with. They bagged it all up. It’ll take a while to sort through.’ She looked back at her notebook. ‘Medical exam and Early Evidence Kit is being done now that we have next of kin consent from her sister.’

  ‘And bloods?’

  ‘They were taken by the hospital when she first came in – they’ve been sent for analysis.’

  ‘Let’s have the results back as soon as we can,’ Kate said, taking a swig from her mineral water and wincing at the lack of taste. The smell of coffee and bacon sandwiches filled the air and Kate cursed her latest ridiculous resolution to be healthier.

  She saw Yates pause. ‘What?’

  Yates frowned. ‘Are we sure this isn’t a mugging gone wrong? I mean, there was no money, phone or credit cards found in the bag. And it was as you’d expect in a robbery, tossed in the bushes.’

  ‘Wasn’t it right at the other end of the common?’ Briggs chipped in.

  ‘Yes, but would that be so strange? Our perp attacks her at one end, runs away searching through the bag, then chucks it when he’s finished looking.’ Yates continued. ‘And a rock? It’s hardly a premeditated weapon of choice.’

  Briggs pulled up a map of the common and pointed to the entrance near one of the bordering roads.

  ‘Gabriella was found here,’ he said. ‘And her bag here, by the Wildlife Centre.’

  ‘They’re a long way apart,’ Kate said. She took one last look, then stood up, facing the two detectives. ‘Things are far from clear at the moment, so let’s be thorough. Let’s keep chasing forensics, especially if they can get anything from the bag. Let’s make sure the blood on the rock is the victim’s. And I want the medical back as soon as we can.

  ‘Briggs, keep going on the cameras. Find out if there’s any private CCTV along the route to get a different view – anything on a house, or a cash machine, or a shop.’ She turned to DC Yates. ‘You and I are going to this nightclub – Heaven?’ DC Briggs nodded. ‘And find out what they know. Oh, and get a summary up on the whiteboard. Crime scene photos, timeline, map, all the usual stuff.’

  They turned back to their files and bacon sandwiches. Kate looked at the water bottle in her hand.

  ‘And we’re going via a sodding Starbucks, okay?’

  During the daytime, the nightclub Heaven looked less like paradise and more like the underworld. It was surrounded by grubby pubs and clubs, the road littered with vacant properties and To Let signs.

  Kate and DC Yates stood outside the entrance, hands in pockets, shivering in the wind as it rushed down the street. Paint was peeling off the padlocked door, an inconspicuous bell to the right-hand side. A burly man was washing away a patch of vomit with a hosepipe, catching all the discarded fag ends and crisp packets in the process. Kate couldn’t imagine standing here in a tiny dress in the heat of summer, let alone now, let alone in the dead of night. They rang the doorbell and waited before turning their attention to the bouncer as he rolled up the hosepipe.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Kate called.

  The man looked across, barely giving the two women a second glance. ‘Police,’ Kate shouted, an instant attention-grabber. The man sighed and walked over, his broad shoulders hunched in a worn black leather jacket and tight jeans, bulging at the thighs.

  ‘Do you recognise this woman?’ Kate asked, showing him pictures – one from the CCTV and another press photo from the internet.

  He nodded. ‘That’s Gabriella. She worked here at the end of the summer behind the bar. Still comes here for a night out most weekends.’

  ‘And when did you see her last?’ Kate asked, gesturing to DC Yates to get out her notebook.

  The man shrugged, lifting his substantial shoulders barely half an inch. ‘Saturday?’ He thought for a moment. ‘She arrived alone, about eleven thirty.’

  ‘There was no one with her? Was that unusual?’

  The bouncer laughed. ‘No, not at all. She knows plenty of people here – especially the men.’

  ‘Anyone special?’ Kate said.

  He paused, then shook his head in a quick movement. ‘Not for me to say,’ he muttered. ‘You’ll have to ask the boss.’

  It pulled at Kate’s curiosity, but she didn’t want to push. She’d ask the man in charge soon enough. ‘And this girl?’ Kate pulled another photo out of her pocket and showed it to him. ‘Have you seen her?’

  The man gave her a funny look. ‘Are you having a laugh, love? What are you trying to pull?’

  ‘It’s her identical twin.’

  ‘Really?’ The bouncer smiled with a greasy leer. ‘There’s never been more than one of them here – I would have noticed.’

  Kate quickly put the photo of Thea back in her pocket. ‘Can you get your boss?’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’ He pulled a mobile out and dialled. ‘Steve, some cops to see you. Yeah, at the front door.’ He listened. ‘It’s about Gabriella.’ He hung up. ‘He says to bring you inside.’

  He pulled the door open with a rush of warm air. Inside, the club smelt of old beer, rough spirits and cheap disinfectant. The overhead luminescent tubes were turned on, showing a long wooden bar down the left-hand side, a dance floor in the centre and a set of stairs winding up the middle of the room.

  ‘Have you been clubbing lately?’ Kate whispered to DC Yates.

  She shook her head. ‘Nah, I’m too tired. This job plus two kids under five doesn’t leave much room for a social life.’

  Kate raised her eyebrows. Two under five, crikey. She barely had the energy to take her shoes off after work, let alone look after two small people.

  The bouncer beckoned them through, then pointed up the stairs to an impressive mezzanine, and follow
ed them up. At the top he led them down a corridor to the right-hand side of the bar, a sign for the toilets overhead. The office door was at the end, and the bouncer tapped in the security code to let them inside.

  He pointed to his boss, sat behind a cheap-looking desk more fitting of a council office. The man behind it stood up as they walked into the room. Tall and well built, he was dressed formally in a dark suit and purple tie, dark brown hair styled flawlessly, white teeth shining from a winter tan.

  ‘Steve Morgan,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘Owner. How can I help?’

  The bouncer left, closing the door behind him and Steve gestured to the two chairs in front of the desk.

  Kate forced a smile, her lips pressed together. Steve Morgan sat back down and she perched on the edge of one of the chairs, Yates hovering behind. ‘Do you recognise this woman?’ She showed him the same few photos and Steve nodded.

  ‘Yep, that’s definitely Gabriella. She worked here August, September time last year. I was disappointed she left – she knew how to keep the men happy, if you know what I mean,’ he said, winking.

  ‘I’m not sure I do,’ Kate said slowly.

  Steve Morgan thought for a second. ‘She always looked good, great eye candy for a man with money. Flirty, fun – she did well on the tips. It was a pity she quit.’

  ‘And why did she leave?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Didn’t say. But I heard she was working as an escort, so perhaps she made better money that way.’

  Kate nodded. ‘Do you know if she was seeing anyone in particular?’

  ‘Well, that would be telling,’ Steve said, tapping the side of his nose. ‘A club with this sort of reputation needs to be discreet, you know. People wouldn’t like it if I went around blabbing.’

  ‘But I’m sure a club with your reputation would do anything to help the police when a young woman has been attacked.’

  ‘Attacked? What happened to her?’ He sat forward in his chair, suddenly worried.

  ‘Knocked unconscious Saturday night, walking home from here. It would be such a help for our investigation if you could share what you know. And your CCTV footage, of course.’ Kate pointed to the camera in the corner of the room above them. ‘And I noticed a few more in the club?’