Through a Narrow Door (10 page)

‘I can understand why you like it here, Hillary. It’s hard to believe Kidlington is just a half mile up the road. It’s like a different world out there.’

Hillary smiled and pointed to the armchair. ‘Please, have a seat.’ She reached for a folding deckchair beside the sink and opened it out for herself. As the kettle began humming, she talked about the Davies case, and he listened closely.

‘Any progress on the drugs angle?’ he asked, when she’d finished.

‘I’m waiting for Tommy to get back to me. Melanie Parker won’t hang about. If there’s something there, we’ll know it soon.’

‘And the family’s in the clear?’

‘As much as they can be,’ Hillary said neutrally, ‘given
that husband and wife, and eleven-year-old daughter all alibi each other.’

‘Get any vibes there?’

Hillary blew out her lips. ‘I don’t think either of them were under any illusions about their son,’ she said at last. ‘I got the impression they were doing an ostrich act. But they’re not completely off my radar yet.’

Danvers nodded, then watched her make the coffee. He accepted his with a brief smile. ‘Mel seems to be settling down in his new job OK.’

Hillary nodded and took a sip of her own brew. It was too hot and tasted surprisingly bitter. She felt hot and sticky after another scorching day, and wanted a cold shower. The boat felt close too, and she got up and opened the window behind her. The Mollern was deliberately moored under a long line of willow trees, which provided nearly day-long shade, but even so, she could feel the sweat begin to gather between her breasts.

She wished Danvers would go. His knee was so close to hers they were almost touching.

Janine watched the waiter pour a Chilean Chardonnay into her glass, then looked across at Mel. ‘The linguine all right?’ he asked, and Janine nodded, spearing a forkful and chewing quickly.

She was hungry.

‘Nice place,’ she said, looking around the Italian restaurant. She hadn’t been here before, and wondered how long it would last. Restaurants seemed to have a short shelf-life nowadays.

‘Glad you like it,’ Mel said. ‘The Tiramisu here is really something.’

‘What’s going on Mel?’ Janine said flatly. ‘Why the invitation to dinner?’

Mel shrugged. ‘I could ask you the same thing. You didn’t have to accept.’

Janine grunted. ‘Free food. What’s a girl gonna do?’

Mel smiled and reached for the shaker of parmesan cheese. ‘Fancy dancing later?’ He knew Janine loved to dance – anything from line dancing to ballroom, to
retro-disco
.

Janine smiled wryly. ‘Sure, why not?’ This was better than staying at home and watching the telly any day. Mel wanted to get back into her bed, she knew it. She could feel it. And she … well, she wasn’t sure whether or not she’d let him, or just amuse herself watching him squirm trying.

‘Well, I’d better be off,’ Paul Danvers said, putting his empty coffee mug in the sink. Hillary, sitting in the low deckchair, found herself struggling just a little to get to her feet. When Danvers reached down to grab her hand and pull her up she felt her breath catch. She was careful not to take a step towards him.

‘Thank you, sir. It’s been a long day.’

‘Paul.’

Hillary smiled. ‘Paul.’

She walked him to the back of the boat and watched him walk away down the towpath. She was going to have to face it. The man was after her. And what the hell was she supposed to do about that? If she mentioned it to Mel, he’d think it was sour grapes because he’d got the job and she hadn’t. And there was no way she was going to make an official complaint to Donleavy. It would be the kiss of death to her own career, and besides, to be fair, the man hadn’t even so much as made a pass. Perhaps she was reading too much into it. Didn’t Danvers have a girlfriend, anyway? Some sort of svelte legal eagle, if she remembered. Well, there was no point worrying about it now. She’d cross that bridge when and if she came to it.

She was about to go back down the steps, when a long, slow wolf whistle pierced the night air. ‘Way to go, Hill,’ Nancy Walker said. She was lying on the top of her boat, and looked, at first glance, to be naked. Then Hillary saw that she was, in fact, wearing a skin-coloured bikini.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Hillary said.

‘Too damned muggy to sleep indoors,’ Nancy said. ‘I’ve got a mattress out here. You should try it.’

Hillary shook her head. ‘You’re bloody mad, you know that? What if some mad rapist came along?’

Nancy grinned. ‘I’d shout for you, of course. Who’s the Adonis?’ she asked, nodding in the direction Danvers had taken. ‘Finally stopped living like a nun then? About time.’

‘It was work,’ Hillary said shortly. ‘He’s my new boss, Detective Chief Inspector Danvers,’ Hillary added firmly.

‘He fancies you something rotten,’ Nancy said, matter-of-factly, lying back down and smiling as a bat swooped low across the water, its call, in spite of the folklore that would have it otherwise, being perfectly audible to the human ear. ‘Trust me, I can tell. And you ain’t immune girl, either, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself.’

‘What, you can tell all that, even in the dark, at a distance of twenty feet?’

‘Better believe it.’

Hillary had the uncomfortable feeling she was right. ‘He’s younger than me,’ she said flatly.

‘So?’ Nancy gurgled and Hillary sighed. Probably not the best argument to use on the toy-boy queen of north Oxford.

‘He’s my boss.’

‘So?’

‘He’s the one who investigated me that time when they thought I might be bent!’

‘Ooooh, seriously sexy!’ Nancy said. ‘He can investigate me for corruption any time he wants to. I won’t let him down.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Hillary grinned, ducking back down the steps. As she shut the door firmly behind her, she heard Nancy call, ‘If you really don’t want him, can I have him?’

Hillary was still laughing when she fell into bed a little while later.

She was back at work at 8.30 the next morning. It was Friday, three days after the discovery of Billy’s body, and
already the temperature was high enough to have her nicking someone’s electric fan.

She attacked her in-tray as if she hated it (which she usually did) and fell on Tommy’s neck the moment he walked through the door. The news wasn’t good though. Melanie had nothing on Lester Miller and, worse, her snout was almost positive neither Billy Davies nor Miller had been dealing.

‘Although the snout did say that everybody at the school thought Davies had some sort of scam going. He always had money, and nobody knew where it came from,’ Tommy finished his report, just as Janine came in through the door.

Hillary watched her take her seat, wondering why she was smiling like the cat that had been dining on canary pie.

‘Drugs a washout then?’ she asked, having caught the tail end of Tommy’s report.

‘Looks like it,’ Hillary agreed. ‘Any reports of an increase in thefts in the local area?’ she asked sharply, but Tommy was already shaking his head.

‘Thought of that, guv, but nothing unusual. If Billy was thieving, he wasn’t doing it on his own back doorstep.’

‘Blackmail’s got to be back on the hotlist then,’ she mused, then added, ‘Did either of you know the Warrenders used to have an allotment?’

Before either of them could respond, Frank Ross stuck his head around the door, but made no move to cross the big open-plan office to his desk. Instead he gestured at her like a belligerent gnome.

Hillary sighed and got up. She didn’t want to leave the cooling reach of the electric fan, but she knew it was only a matter of time before its furious owner claimed it back. ‘What is it Frank?’ she asked flatly, when she reached the door.

‘Bird downstairs asking to see you,’ he said back, just as flatly. ‘About the Davies case. I was passing the desk when she started in and I offered to help, but only you will do, apparently.’

Hillary nodded. ‘Right. You’d better sit in obbo,’ she said, referring to the room where another officer could watch and listen in on an interview.

‘Gee, thanks,’ Frank drawled.

The witness had been taken to interview room five, she was informed, and when she walked in, the teenager turned immediately to look at her. She wasn’t very tall, and she had too much puppy fat. Her skirt was too tight, and the shirt she had tied at the waist revealed a bulging belly button. She had a line of silver stud earrings in one lobe only, and her make-up was already beginning to run in the heat.

Hillary took a seat opposite her and smiled. ‘Hello, I’m Detective Inspector Hillary Greene. I’m heading up the William Davies murder inquiry. You wanted to see me?’

The girl nodded. She had long, damp brown hair and hazel eyes a little too close together.

Hillary got out her notebook. ‘Your full name please?’

‘Deborah Eloise Soames.’

Hillary glanced up at her. ‘Any relation to Heather Soames?’

Debbie Soames nodded sullenly. ‘My sister, yeah.’

Heather Soames, if Hillary’s memory was accurate, was the same age as her boyfriend had been – namely fifteen. But this girl looked older. Maybe seventeen or so. What’s more Heather Soames was known to be something of a looker – one of the school’s popular people. It must be a bit tough on a girl like this to have a little sister who was such a looker.

‘I’ve yet to speak to your sister, Miss Soames,’ Hillary said mildly. ‘My officer tells me she wasn’t at school yesterday. She was ill?’

Debbie Soames snorted. ‘Ill my arse. She’s up the duff, isn’t she.’ She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a stick of Juicy Fruit and opened it up.

Once in her mouth, she began to chew it vigorously.

Hillary slowly leaned back in her chair.

‘I see. I take it Billy is the father?’

Debbie shrugged. ‘Probably. Not sure. Heather’s not all that fussy, know what I mean?’

Hillary thought she did. Debbie Soames bitterly resented being the dumpy, unattractive one, and was enjoying this rare chance to drop her sister in it. So she’d have to take Heather’s supposed nymphomania with a big pinch of salt.

‘What makes you think your sister’s pregnant?’ Hillary asked curiously.

‘Spewing up in the morning. Not being on the rag. Clothes getting too tight. You don’t need to be a rocket scientist, do yah?’ Debbie Soames snorted. ‘Besides, I found a pregnancy testing kit in her room.’

Hillary smiled. ‘That was very observant of you, Miss Soames. Did Billy know she was pregnant?’

Debbie shrugged. ‘Mighta done. Not sure. I know Heather didn’t go spreading it around. Scared Dad’ll find out. He’ll kill her when he does,’ she added smugly.

‘You haven’t already told him?’ Hillary asked, surprised. A girl with this much repressed sibling jealousy, she would have thought, would have blurted it out to Dad straight away.

Debbie Soames looked uneasy and shrugged. ‘I ain’t no grass,’ she finally said.

Hillary nodded. There was something there, obviously. Some reason why she hadn’t informed her father. Well, there was no time to waste now. She’d have to speak to Heather Soames right away.

She questioned Debbie Soames about the day of Billy’s murder, but she’d been at school and knew nothing. Now that she’d spewed her venom she seemed in a hurry to get away, and Hillary was only too pleased to let her go.

Outside, Frank Ross smiled happily. ‘About time we got a break,’ he said.

Hillary glanced at him sourly. ‘Ask Janine to meet me outside,’ she said, and before he could open his mouth said flatly, ‘Forget it, Frank. I’m not letting you interview a pretty pregnant teenager.’

Ross shot a two-fingered salute to her back when she turned and walked away.

‘Same to you,’ Hillary said, without turning around.

Heather Soames answered the door herself. She was the same height as Hillary, but far more slender, with shoulder-length ash-blonde hair and big green eyes. If she was pregnant it wasn’t yet obvious, although she was dressed in a long, loose, flower-bedecked housecoat, so perhaps she was beginning to show and was anxious to cover up. Her face was pinched and pale, and free of make-up. She looked ill, and Hillary was glad she hadn’t brought Frank.

Beside her, Janine held out her ID. ‘DS Tyler, and this is Detective Inspector Greene. Heather Soames?’

‘Yes? Dad isn’t here,’ Heather Soames stepped away from the door, indicating them to come inside. Hillary, mindful of her tongue-lashing from Lester Miller’s father recently, found herself hesitating.

‘Heather, since you’re only fifteen, there should be an adult present. Would you like to call your father?’

‘Hell no,’ the teenager said at once. ‘Come inside. I’ll make you a drink.’

Hillary nodded to Janine to proceed here, but once inside, tried again. ‘How about a neighbour? Do you have a favourite aunt or uncle you’d like to call?’

‘No, I’m fine. It’s fine. I want to talk about Billy.’

Hillary nodded, but once the teenager had turned her back to lead them through to the kitchen, snapped her fingers in Janine’s direction and pointed to her phone, and
mouthed the word Father. Janine nodded and moved off to one side and began to dial.

Hillary went after Heather and found her in a small but cheerful white and yellow kitchen, with a tiny round dining table, and all the worktops gleaming with old-fashioned Formica. The house had once been a council house, but now looked as if it was privately owned. Out back was a big and colourful, if rather overgrown, garden. The Soames lived on a big but fairly well-respected housing estate in west Bicester. Somewhere a church clock, probably St Egberts, chimed the hour of ten.

‘You’ve not been well,’ Hillary began, watching the girl as she filled the kettle and reached into a cupboard for mugs. ‘You’ve not been back to school much since Billy died?’

‘No, probably a tummy bug. Tea or coffee?’

‘Coffee for both of us, thanks. One without sugar, one with. Do you want me to do it?’

‘No, I’m not helpless. Please, sit down. Move the cat if he’s on the chair.’

But there was no cat and, outside, she could hear Janine talking quietly on the phone. Soon, Francis Soames would be here and, although she was not supposed to technically question the witness, Hillary saw no harm in just chatting. All girls together, and that sort of thing.

‘Heather, are you expecting a baby?’ she asked casually, and the girl almost dropped the sugar packet she was holding. She turned and stared at her for a moment, then sighed.

‘Who told you? Mary-Beth? Or Colleen? They swore they wouldn’t tell. Should have known I couldn’t trust them.’ She sounded merely tired though, rather than seriously put out.

Hillary smiled. ‘Your best friends? Yes, well, our information didn’t come from either of those, so it looks as if you chose your friends well.’

Heather Soames nodded listlessly and went to the fridge
for milk. Janine wandered in, nodded casually at Hillary and took a seat as well.

‘So, are you many weeks along?’ Hillary asked.

‘Not so many. Eight or nine, I think.’

‘You’ve been to see a doctor?’ Hillary asked abruptly, suddenly alarmed, but already the girl was shaking her head.

‘Not yet.’

‘But you will?’ she pressed, her mind mentally going through a register of people she could call on for help in these matters.

‘Not sure,’ Heather said carefully, and poured boiling water into the mugs, brought them to the table then sat down. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stared at a half-empty marmalade pot on the table. ‘Billy wanted me to get rid of it,’ she admitted frankly. ‘He said he’d pay. He even found some places I could go. On the train, like. Couldn’t get it done around here. Bloody gossipy town, you ask me.’

Hillary nodded. ‘Does your dad know?’

‘No!’ Heather almost shouted. ‘And you mustn’t tell him! He’ll be sick as a parrot. Please! He’s got really paranoid since Mum …’ Her bottom lip began to quiver. ‘Since Mum died.’

Janine glanced up from her notebook, not liking the way the girl’s voice had begun to oscillate. Although she could, and had, dealt with many weeping and hysterical witnesses, it wasn’t her favourite pastime.

Hillary got up, walked around, and put an arm around the girl. ‘Your mum die recently love?’

‘Two months ago,’ Heather choked out and began to sob. Janine jumped up and looked around, spotted some kitchen roll on the windowsill and yanked off a few squares. Hillary took them from her and handed them silently over, hugging the girl as she wept into the tissue. The crying storm lasted a few minutes, but when it was over, the teenager looked calmer. And even more exhausted. Hillary went back to her seat.

‘It was cancer,’ Heather said quietly, holding the sodden and crumpled mass of paper in her hands. She began absently to shred it. ‘We knew for months beforehand that she was going to go, but Dad wouldn’t have it. He kept talking about us all going on holiday next year, as if by pretending it wasn’t happening, it wouldn’t happen.’

Hillary nodded. ‘I understand.’

‘But she went. And ever since then, Dad’s been mad around me and Debbie. Won’t let us stay out after ten. Can’t go on the back of Debbie’s boyfriend’s motorbike, even with a helmet on. Stuff like that. If he knew I’d got pregnant, he’d … well, he’d do his nut. Please don’t tell him. You don’t have to tell him, do you?’ she asked pathetically.

Hillary opened her mouth, then closed it again, as she heard a car pull into the drive outside. ‘That’s your father,’ she warned, then put a hand on Heather’s shoulder as she made to get up. ‘Don’t worry, we had to call him, but we don’t need to talk about the baby. It was Billy’s, yes?’

‘Of course it was. He’s the only one I’ve been with. You know, my first, and everything.’

Hillary nodded. ‘Did you feel angry when he asked you to have an abortion?’ she asked quickly, aware that their time was fast running out. Outside, a car door opened and slammed.

‘Well, not really,’ Heather said, looking from her to the door and back again. ‘I was a bit scared. I don’t want a kid, not really. I thought Billy would come with me though. Hold my hand. Now I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

‘There’s people you can talk to,’ Hillary said quickly, and leaned back away from her as she heard the front door open. ‘Go to the family planning clinic, or even the Citizen’s Advice Bureau. They can give you names and addresses,’ she whispered.

When Francis Soames walked into the kitchen a moment later, Hillary and Janine were sitting sipping coffee, and Heather was fiddling with the marmalade pot. Hillary rose at once. ‘Mr Soames? Hello, I’m Detective Inspector
Greene.’ She held out a hand. ‘This is my colleague, DS Tyler. She phoned you?’

‘Yes. What is it. What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong, Mr Soames, but we need to speak to Heather, concerning the William Davies investigation, and since she’s underage, we need an adult present. We thought you’d like to be here before we start questioning her. As you can see, she’s made us feel right at home while we were waiting for you,’ Hillary added, holding up her mug.

Francis Soames nodded. ‘Good girl,’ he said absently, but he looked wary. He was one of those lean, sparse men, who had quick, bird-like movements and lots of energy. His hair was as blonde as his daughter’s, but looked set to go grey any second, and his nose was on the hooked side. He looked like a man who knew how to handle himself and life, but you could tell he’d had a bad knock recently. There was something in the hollows under the eyes, the stiff way he walked, that gave it away.

‘Any tea in the pot, lovey?’ he asked, sitting down and shoving a black briefcase out of the way under the table.

Heather got up wordlessly and made her father some tea.

‘So, perhaps we can begin?’ Hillary said guilelessly, pretending not to notice the look of gratitude the teenager sent her. ‘You were at school the afternoon that Billy died, I believe?’ she carried on smoothly.

‘Yes,’ Heather said. ‘We had a free period, just after double French. Mary-Beth and Colleen and me hung around the tennis courts. Colleen always watches Wimbledon, fancies her chances as a pro and all that, and she was practising her forearm smash. Or pretending too. Mostly we just drank cokes and chatted.’

Hillary nodded. ‘I know you’ve already gone over all this with a constable, but sometimes it takes a few days for the shock to wear off, and then witnesses can remember things they didn’t think of before.’ She said this more for Francis Soames’s benefit than anything else, and it was to him that she turned.

He nodded, but didn’t speak. He was watching his daughter carefully though, Hillary noticed.

‘Were you expecting Billy to be at school that day?’ She turned back to Heather.

‘Course. It was the day after the bank holiday. Everyone was back at school.’

‘But you’re not in the same form as Billy?’

‘No. First time I knew he wasn’t there was at the morning break. We usually spent it together. We’d meet up in the locker room where I had my locker.’

Hillary nodded. ‘And had Billy seemed odd in any way, before the bank holiday? Did he seem worried, or upset, or anything like that?’

Heather shook her head. ‘No, he was the same as ever. Asked me what I wanted for my birthday. It’s next month. Said he was going to buy me a diamond necklace, but I told him not to be daft. He said he was though, said he’d seen this tiny diamond drop pendant in a jewellers in Banbury. He was always like that; he loved buying me stuff. He was just a big kid, really.’

Hillary tried not to smile. At fifteen, that’s exactly what Billy-Boy Davies had been. A big kid. But there was no point in trying to explain this to Heather. Girls grew up faster than boys, and a girl like Heather, who’d already been through so much, would almost certainly regard herself as a fully-fledged adult.

Francis Soames shifted uneasily on his chair and his daughter shot him a quick look. ‘I know you always thought he was showing off, but he really meant the stuff he said, Dad.’

Francis Soames opened his mouth to contend with this, then considered his daughter’s wan face, and shut it again. In the end, he merely shrugged.

‘Dad didn’t really like Billy,’ Heather explained to Hillary, rather unnecessarily. ‘And Billy was dead scared of Dad. But they’d have got on all right though, in time. I know they would have.’ She paused, then took a deep
breath. ‘Do you know who killed him?’ she asked, staring at her with big moist green eyes.

Hillary smiled gently. ‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation, Miss Soames. Can you tell me what the deal was between him and Lester Miller?’ she asked, abruptly changing the subject.

Heather’s lips instantly twisted. ‘Oh, him. Ginger nut. He was all right, but he was a bit of a hanger-on. You know, like pop stars have roadies, Billy had Lester. Billy was the one with all the ideas and all the brains, and Lester, well, his dad is loaded, or so Lester always said, and Billy let him tag along with us sometimes. Billy always said that as soon as he left school, Lester would be history though.’

Hillary nodded. The picture was becoming clearer. Billy had tolerated Lester because of the computer, the liberal pocket money, the nice house where he could freeload and get away from the bungalow. She doubted that he’d ever really thought of the boy as a true friend.

‘Heather, do you have any idea who might have killed him?’ Hillary asked softly.

‘No,’ Heather said at once. ‘I’d have told you if I had,’ she added simply.

‘Did Billy ever talk about his family? Did he get on with them?’

‘He never really said much. I think his dad got on his case from time to time, and he said his little sister was a real pain in the … I mean, a big pain,’ she shot her father a quick look, hoping he hadn’t caught the near-slip. ‘Said he couldn’t wait to leave home, but I think he got on with his mum all right. Just the usual stuff, you know?’

Hillary did. ‘All right Heather. Well, that’s all for now. I hope you feel better soon,’ she added, getting slowly to her feet. ‘Mr Soames, if you’d like to see us out?’ she murmured discreetly.

Francis Soames got instantly to his feet, his mug of tea still untouched in front of him. Outside, they walked in single-file to Hillary’s car.

‘I understand you lost your wife recently. I’m very sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘But your daughters must be a comfort.’

‘Yes they are. I don’t know what I’d do without them. Debbie’s taken on the housework and cooking and everything. She’s my rock, I always tell her. Heather’s a bit more delicate. Well, you saw. She’s not been well. This thing with Billy has really knocked her sideways. And after losing her mum so recently too. I’m worried about her. Good job Debbie’s so strong.’

Hillary nodded, suddenly seeing it all. Heather, the pampered favourite. The dumpy Debbie, relied upon and largely ignored. She was beginning to think she’d done the elder daughter a disservice. The reason why she hadn’t told their father about Heather’s pregnancy was now obvious – she didn’t want to heap yet more misery on his plate. Yet being taken so much for granted must chafe, after a while.

Perhaps it was a cry for help, rather than malice, that had brought Debbie Soames to the station that morning? She’d like to think so.

‘You were at work when Billy Davies was killed, Mr Soames?’

Francis Soames smiled. ‘Not very subtle, Inspector,’ he chided wryly. ‘And yes, I was. I run a carpet cleaning service out of Glory Farm.’

Hillary nodded. ‘Well, we’ll let you get back to it,’ Hillary said, holding out her hand once more. Francis Soames shook it, but didn’t return to his own car but went back inside the house instead. Hillary tossed her car keys to Janine and slipped into the passenger seat.

‘When you’ve got a minute, I want you to visit the carpet cleaners,’ Hillary said, the moment Janine was buckled into her seat. ‘Find out if Soames really is alibied or not. It’s one thing to say, “Oh, I was at work” but what does that actually mean? If he helps out with the actual house calls, he could have been anywhere. He could have cleaned a lounge carpet in half an hour, logged it as an hour, and been in Aston Lea for the other half hour, killing the kid who’d been
messing about with his underage daughter. Both Debbie and Heather could be wrong about Daddy not knowing about the pregnancy.’