And None Shall Sleep (20 page)

The front door opened as they walked up the path and a little black Scottie dog snapped at their heels.

An elderly couple were framed in the doorway, the man with his arm protectively around the woman's shoulders. They made no attempt to call off the dog.

Joanna flashed her ID card. ‘Detective Inspector Piercy. And this is Detective Sergeant Korpanski,' she said gently. ‘We're from the Leek Police. May we come in? I'm afraid we have some bad news.'

She recognized them from one of the photographs she'd seen in the maisonette. The father was elderly with a bent back and a military-style moustache, the woman plump and wearing an apron. She was fumbling with the strings, then finally tugged hard enough to snap them. She whisked it off over her head.

They sat in the dining room, formally gathered around a cheap teak table with a white ring in the centre where a vase must have stood. Joanna cleared her throat.

‘What's happened?' It was the man who spoke. ‘After you rang we tried to telephone her.' He looked confused. ‘There was no answer. And at work they said she'd been
off
all week.' He asked the same question again. ‘What's happened? Is she all right?'

‘I'm afraid we found her dead in her flat,' Joanna said gently. She had learned to break bad news by degree. Let them know she was dead first. Give them time to digest that unpalatable fact before telling them the rest.

The man was of a stern constitution. ‘Dead,' he said bluntly. ‘How?'

‘We're not absolutely sure yet,' Joanna said cautiously. ‘There'll have to be a –'

‘Post-mortem?' the man said brutally.

Joanna nodded.

‘Well, how do you think she died?' His eyes were grey and watering. ‘Not natural causes. She was a healthy girl.'

Joanna took a deep breath. ‘We have reason to believe someone may have got into her flat. It looks as though she was strangled.' She paused. ‘I'm so sorry.'

The woman dissolved then. ‘She's a gentle girl, our Yolande,' she said. ‘All we've got, you know.' She sniffed loudly. ‘We've only got the one.'

She would learn to change the tense.

‘She's so gentle and kind too. Always helping people. Always helping people.'

The man was gripping the arms of his chair. His knuckles showed bone-white. ‘Was it one of them sex maniacs?'

‘We can't be sure,' Joanna said. ‘Not until we have the results of the post-mortem. But no, I don't think so. We think it happened some time last Tuesday.'

The woman looked appalled. ‘And she's been lying there all this time? On her own?'

Joanna nodded.

‘Our girl – my daughter – lying dead – untended?'

The man stared at Joanna. ‘Who did it' he said, and then, ‘What can we do to help get him?'

‘We're going to want to take a statement – later.'

‘Now!' the man almost shouted. ‘Ask your questions now.'

‘We don't usually in cases –'

His eyes were bulging. ‘
Ask them
,' he said through gritted teeth.

‘We think,' Joanna said gently, ‘that Yolande's death was somehow connected with other incidents at the hospital.'

‘That solicitor chap?'

‘Possibly. Did she say anything about it?'

Yolande's father nodded. ‘She rang us after you'd been questioning her. She sounded fine. Said he'd be turning up none the worse for his experience' He was moving his head backwards and forwards. ‘She was sure nothing would happen to him. It gave us a shock when you found him dead.'

Both Mike and Joanna were silent for a moment, digesting this piece of information, then Joanna leaned across the table. ‘What can you tell us about Michael Frost?'

Mr Prince looked puzzled. It was not what he had expected. ‘Michael Frost,' he said slowly. ‘Was that the man who jumped out of the window? That was ages ago. What on earth has he got to do with this?' He crumpled in the chair.

His wife put her hand on his arm. ‘I remember about Michael Frost,' she said quietly.

Joanna turned to her. ‘What did Yolande say about him?'

‘He was only a young man,' she said. ‘His wife had been ill. He was depressed about it. Yolande spoke to him. She tried to comfort him a bit. It was awful for her. She thought she'd cheered him up a bit. He said he felt better. So she thought he was all right again.' She stopped. ‘He said he didn't need his tablets that night. He'd made some tough decision and he felt better, much better. She didn't bother watching him after that. She saw him writing something. The next thing she knew he'd gone through the window. She couldn't believe it. And there was this letter, you see, addressed to his wife. She put it in her pocket. She was so frightened.' The woman's eyes were abstract and bleak. ‘Then once she'd hidden the letter there was nothing she could do. She couldn't just produce it in court. But it did explain everything'

‘What did it say?'

‘She didn't tell me,' Mrs Prince said proudly. ‘She was a loyal girl, loyal to her patients. Always kept their secrets for them. But it would have made things easier for her, especially when that O'Sullivan man started making such trouble. Making snide remarks.'

Both the detectives could well imagine that. Mrs Prince looked at each of them carefully. ‘She did feel responsible, you see. She'd been sitting talking to him. We went to the inquest,' she said. ‘They didn't blame her, you know. Everyone said even the Coroner – that she'd done all she could. It was the hospital inquiry that asked why she'd been on a psychiatric ward in the first place. Yolande was off sick for a long time afterwards. She felt so responsible. She only wanted to help him. She thought she had. She was one of these girls with a strong social conscience,' she said. She pressed her hand across her mouth. ‘She was our only child. What have we got left now?'

The mortuary was hardly Joanna's favourite place to be at nine o'clock on a Saturday morning, but she would not be alone. As Mike dropped her off she saw the cars of the SOCO team waiting in the car park, as well as Matthew's BMW.

An officer she knew, Barraclough, greeted her with a wave. ‘Dr Levin's already inside.'

Matthew was gowned up, impatient to start. He barely greeted her before he focused his attention on the body.

All post-mortems begin in the same way. The body must be naked. So first of all Yolande's uniform had to be cut off and the stocking removed from around her neck. The same care was given to her overwashed, faded underclothes, but it was when Matthew began to examine her neck that he took particular interest. Even Joanna could see the extensive bruising where the stocking had been pulled tight. Beneath the skin the tiny hyoid bone had been broken.

Half an hour later she was drinking coffee in Matthew's office. ‘Pretty obvious, really,' he said. ‘She was strangled. She did try to fight off her attacker. There are marks on her fingers and a couple of broken nails from where she tried to pull away the stocking but she didn't have much of a chance. From the evidence it was quick and unexpected. And the person who killed her was strong as well as having the distinct advantage of surprise. After all,' he pointed out grimly, ‘Yolande was a fit, healthy girl. Not so easy to kill,'

‘Was it a man?'

Matthew sighed. ‘A man or a strong woman.' There was a glint of humour in his eyes. ‘I do wish you wouldn't make such a concerted effort to get me to name the murderer.'

She held up her hand. ‘Sorry.'

‘All I can give you is a cause of death – strangulation.'

Barraclough took her back to the station and she found Mike waiting for her.

‘Did you get Justin Selkirk's address?'

He nodded, failing to hide an involuntary smirk. ‘Lou- lou gave it to me,' he said, ‘after a bit of a struggle. She's very hot on human rights as well as being protective towards her employee. I think she's hiding something.'

Joanna laughed. ‘You think everyone's hiding something, Mike.'

‘No,' he said earnestly. ‘I mean it. She really didn't want me talking to him again.'

‘Well, tough.' Joanna said, ‘because he's next on my list. So where does he live?'

‘You're not going to believe this.'

They parked the squad car at the entrance to the field where a dirt track led to the caravan. On a bright summer's day it might have looked idyllic, a great, gypsy adventure, but today, in a fine grey drizzle, it looked bleak.

Yet this was where Justin Selkirk lived.

Joanna stared at it incredulously. ‘Are you sure they live here, Mike?'

‘This is where she said. I did check.'

‘But the family are worth thousands. That great big house and Jonathan Selkirk allowed his son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter to live here?'

Mike read the entry from his notebook. ‘The caravan standing near the entrance to Dallow's Farm.' He pushed the gate open. ‘Besides which, isn't that his car?'

Parked next to the caravan was the distinctive yellow and rust Citroen 2CV

‘Pritchard didn't really need to come down and tell us what a sod Selkirk was,' he observed. ‘We only had to come and visit his son. He must have hated his father.'

‘Or do you mean the father must have hated the son?' They walked on a few paces before Joanna thought further. ‘You know, I don't think hate's the word. Selkirk wanted to belittle his son, make him feel inadequate. It probably suited him that he was reduced to living like this – such an obvious failure.'

‘No wonder Selkirk ended up with a hole in his head.'

‘Ssh,'Joanna said, and raised her hand to knock at the caravan door.

Teresa Selkirk must have heard their voices. She tugged it open before the first knock. Her pale face looked only mildly surprised as she recognized them. ‘Oh, it's you. Hello.' She gave one of her vague smiles and pulled the door behind her. ‘It isn't terribly convenient at the moment. We're rather busy.'

‘We won't keep you long, Mrs Selkirk. We really wanted to talk to your husband.'

‘Justin?' Her narrow eyebrows arched. ‘You want to speak to Justin? What about?'

‘Well, it was his father who was shot,' Mike said brusquely, ‘and we're still investigating.'

‘I thought you'd arrested the man.' She waved her hands around. ‘The papers said you had.'

‘Someone hired him, Mrs Selkirk. We thought your husband might be able to help us with our enquiries.'

An expression of sharp intelligence crossed Teresa's face. ‘Is that a euphemism for arresting him, Inspector?'

‘No, Mrs Selkirk, it isn't. If we were going to arrest him we would have said so. We merely want to talk to him. Is he in?'

Teresa Selkirk's face changed to one of mild amusement. She flattened herself against the door. ‘He is in the drawing room, actually.'

She hadn't lied when she'd claimed they were busy. It was a small living area and the floor was cluttered with bundles of clothes tied up with string. Justin was sitting in the corner on a grubby orange foam seat. His daughter was on his knee, drawing on his outstretched palm with an extended index finger. As they watched she clapped her hands then looked up. Round, baby eyes watched warily. Teresa sank down on a heap of blankets, one hand holding her back, the other resting on her stomach.

‘Twinges,' she explained. ‘I keep getting them.'

‘Why have you come here?' Justin asked in his high-pitched voice. ‘I can't help you. I thought you realized that. I hardly saw my father. I don't know anything about his murder.'

‘We understand that you and your father didn't get along too well.'

‘I would have done. He didn't want to be bothered with me. Tell them, Teresa.'

‘How long have you lived here?'

‘About eight months. We fell behind with the mortgage. Things were difficult. It wasn't my fault.' Justin's face trembled. ‘We tried to manage. But with Lucy and another baby on the way it was hard. The more we got behind the more they pestered us, didn't they?'

His wife nodded.

‘And our house had dropped in value. The only way out was to sell and try to pay off the debt.' Justin reached across and squeezed his wife's hand. ‘The farmer said we could live here until we got sorted out. It's got a drain, mains water and electricity. We've managed,' his face dropped, ‘in a way.'

‘Couldn't you have moved into your parents' house?'

‘Justin's father wouldn't have allowed it,' Teresa said coldly. ‘He believed couples of our age had responsibilities. He was very anxious we stand on our own two feet, as he liked to put it.'

‘You did ask, then?'

Teresa bent her head and her black hair dropped like a curtain. It was impossible to read her expression. ‘We did.'

Mike was incredulous. ‘He wouldn't put you up, even for a short time?'

Teresa Selkirk lifted her head and gave another calm I smile. ‘You didn't know my father-in-law,' she said. ‘Anyway, sometimes things happen for the best. We're getting out of here now. Aren't we, Justin?'

Her husband gave her a swift, grateful glance and buried his face in the child's curls.

‘Where are you moving to?'

‘We're moving in with my mother-in-law.'

‘How very convenient.'

For the first time Teresa Selkirk took a good look at Mike. ‘What would you know about it?' she said, gently, not unpleasantly. She was goading him.

Mike flushed.

She pursued him. ‘Ever lived in a tiny little caravan like this with your wife and child? Or have you got a proper home? And it'll only be a couple of weeks before there's four of us here. You want to try it some time, Sergeant. My mother-in-law, bless her, would have given us a home any time. It was only that old sod who stopped her. Justin has had a very difficult life.'