Shattered Bones, page 15
‘Okay, today we just want to elaborate on a few facts following on from our previous conversation. There’s just a few inconsistencies we need to iron out.’
‘Inconsistencies?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid your version of events doesn’t quite match with what Bernadette Dawlish has told us.’
Laurel let out a high-pitched laugh. ‘If you speak to your Inspector Stevenson, he will tell you that Bernadette, God love her, isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, she’s more of a spoon. I’m confident you’ll realise that any inconsistencies are from Bernadette’s viewpoint, not mine.’
‘Mm. Well, to start with I just need to ask you again about your feelings towards Trevor.’
Laurel puffed out her cheeks. ‘Honestly, I’m beginning to despair with all this. There was nothing going on between Trevor and I other than a purely platonic friendship. I don’t know where she’s got this idea from that I was obsessed with him.’
‘Bernadette has gone further with her claims. She states when she first started dating Trevor, she received harassment from you starting with dirty looks and caustic comments and even involving damage to her motor vehicle on more than one occasion.’
‘What kind of damage?’
‘She states several incidents occurred in the first twelve months of her relationship with Trevor, these included scratches on her car, a cracked windscreen and she has also claimed that her tyres had been slashed.’
Laurel shook her head. ‘That didn’t happen.’
Turner raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘If anything like that had happened on the road, I would have seen it. I’m incredibly observant. A one-woman neighbourhood watch if you will. At no point have I ever seen any damage to her car or anyone else’s.’
‘But she has said you were responsible.’
‘Ridiculous.’ Laurel tugged at the crucifix, as she crossed her legs and sat back in the chair. ‘I would never do such a thing and nobody else did either. I would have noticed. She’s lying.’
‘You say you’re very observant, Miss Miller.’
She gave a small, boastful smile and nodded, uncrossing her legs.
‘Yet on several occasions, you have referred to my colleague Detective Constable Stevenson as Inspector, despite repeated attempts by him to correct you.’
‘Well… I… Honestly, in the grand scheme of things, is that even relevant?’ She folded her arms and clamped her mouth shut.
‘Moving on to the last time you saw Rose. You stated you made sure she was settled safely in bed and left her for the night after locking up. Are you absolutely sure the door was locked?’
‘Absolutely. I double-checked it to make sure.’
‘And did you notice anyone hanging around as you went back to your own house?’
‘No. I would have remembered. As I said I’m very…’
‘Observant. Indeed.’ Turner checked his notes. ‘Can you remember what the weather was like that evening?’
‘Yes, it was raining. And very cold. Sharp wind, you know.’ She half closed her eyes, as she remembered. ‘It was actually hail-stoning. I remember specifically because it was stinging my face. It was quite painful. And my hands were red raw because I had no gloves on.’
Malone let out a small cough. ‘Is it possible that in a rush to get out of the bad weather and back home, you may not have locked the door properly after all?’
‘No! It was definitely locked. I resent that accusation,’ she said indignantly.
‘My apologies. Going back to DS Turner’s earlier question though, you’re quite sure nobody else was around at that time?’
‘Nobody. I habitually look out regularly prior to going to bed and there was nobody else on the road that night.’
Malone cocked his head to one side. ‘But visibility wasn’t great, was it? What with the windy wet weather, sheets of hailstones, plus it was dark? On a road that still has sodium street lights, which aren’t the brightest, are they?’
‘I did not see anybody else.’
‘So, for example, Trevor didn’t return to the address again that night?’
Laurel flushed. She shuffled in her seat. Her bum had started to go numb, and it felt uncomfortable. ‘I would have noticed.’
‘Is it fair to say then, that you were the last person to see Rose alive?’
Laurel gasped. ‘Well, yes. I mean no! Bernadette saw her last. When she came home.’
Turner rubbed his chin. ‘Sorry to be crass, but the question was, were you the last person to see Rose alive? She was already dead at the bottom of the stairs when Bernadette returned home.’
Laurel started to cry quietly, huge tears splashed down her cheeks. Turner and Malone began to busy themselves with their notes to allow her a moment to compose herself.
‘There is something else.’
‘I’m listening.’ Turner smiled kindly while Malone gripped his pen.
‘You asked me yesterday about the position of the chairlift?’
‘Ah yes.’ Turner tapped his pen on the table as Malone flicked through his notes.
‘Well, I’ve remembered.’
‘You weren’t sure about that yesterday?’
‘Well, I am now I’ve had time to think. I told you I banged my shin on the bloody thing.’
‘That must have been quite painful. Do you have a bruise?’
‘Pardon?’
‘If you have a bruise on your shin, we can have it photographically recorded by one of our crime-scene investigators. It adds continuity to what you’re telling us.’
‘I tend not to bruise easily.’
‘Would you like to double-check?’
She shook her head, eyes on the table. ‘No need.’ There was a heavy pause. ‘There is no bruise.’
‘I see. So, what do you remember about the chairlift?’
‘You asked about the arms specifically. The left arm was up. I reached out to steady myself and grabbed the arm and it started to push down. I remember pulling it back to how it had been.’
‘Which just to confirm, was how exactly?’
‘The left arm was raised.’
‘And you’re sure about that?’
‘Positive.’
‘What about the right arm. Was that raised too?’
‘No, it was down.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes. It was in the position you would expect to find it when it was last used. It was at the top of the track. The left arm was raised to allow her to exit the chair safely onto the landing, and the right was in the fixed position, to prevent her from falling out of the chair.’
‘You seem to recall this vividly now when you couldn’t be sure when we last spoke.’ Malone made a clicking sound with his tongue as he read through his notes. He jabbed a forefinger at a sentence and appraised Laurel unflinchingly.
‘When I asked you about it you replied that you were “more preoccupied with going to see Rose”. And yet now, you remember it clearly. In great detail in fact. Perhaps you weren’t as preoccupied as you claim. Not as worried about Rose as you originally stated.’
‘I’ve had more time to think. It’s all I’ve thought about. She’s all I’ve thought about. Her and Trevor.’ Tears began to fill her eyes again.
‘Ah, yes, Trevor. The man you have a purely platonic relationship with. If I can play devil’s advocate for a moment, can I suggest that rather than a sudden rush of memory, you’ve actually had time to concoct a version of events that fit?’ Malone leant forward, a bloodhound straining at the leash.
‘No! Of course not!’ Laurel began to cry harder. She plucked a tissue from out of her sleeve and wiped her nose. ‘I’ve told you. I’ve just had time to think about it in more detail and remembered. I have an eye for detail for things like that.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Turner gave a sly smile. ‘You’ve said several times, you’re very observant aren’t you, Miss Miller? Would you say you were an intelligent woman? You’ve made it quite clear that you don’t think Bernadette is. Didn’t you describe her as dim? Whereas you, well, I’d describe you as very shrewd. Wouldn’t you, Mike?’ he said as he turned to Malone.
Laurel Miller stopped crying. It was as if a tap had been turned off. She sat up straight and eyed both the detectives calmly, not a modicum of emotion on her face. ‘I think,’ she said in an unwavering voice, ‘I’d like to speak to my solicitor now.’
45
Maya detested shopping, but with Christmas creeping closer and because of her shifts, she had no chance but to bite the bullet and head to the shopping centre with a list. Every shop she went in was rammed. The continuous Christmas music was already starting to grate on her nerves, and she was uncomfortably hot.
The bright lights were also giving her a headache, which wasn’t helped by a woman outside The Perfume Shop who insisted on dousing her in a tester of what Maya could only think was named Eau de Death. The last straw was realising that a security guard was indiscreetly following her around one of the shops.
She fought the urge to stop and tell him what she did for a living. Irritated, she left the shop empty-handed at the same time as two other women. The security alarm went off and she glowered at the hand on her arm as she watched the two white females scurry off with their loot.
‘Nothing says Merry Christmas like a bit of casual racism,’ she had called after the security guard. Once he had realised his mistake, he ran, red-faced after the shoplifters.
Aching feet carried her across the car park, and exhausted, she stowed her packages away in the boot of Dominique’s car. As much as she loved her motorbike, it wasn’t practical for carrying shopping. That said, she found riding the Bonneville incredibly cathartic and would much rather be weaving through the traffic on that than stuck in a tin box on wheels.
Despite it only being lunchtime, it felt like the day hadn’t yet got started. The sky was a cloak of sulking grey. Rain assaulted the car windscreen, water reflecting the council Christmas lights that peppered the main road. The effort was clearly half-hearted as Christmas trees, stars and what Maya assumed was supposed to be a robin but looked more like a pigeon, had been attached to every other lamp post.
Normally, Maya loved Christmas but this year she just didn’t have the same enthusiasm. And it wasn’t just because she was due to work, it all just seemed like an extra hassle. Even today she had spent more than she’d anticipated. She knew it was because she was overcompensating for not spending as much time as she normally did with Dominique and her two best friends, Caitlin and Letitia.
When she arrived at Dominique’s, Maya reached for her key to open the door but was annoyed to discover it unlocked.
‘Mama!’ she admonished as Dominique appeared at the kitchen door. ‘You promised me you’d start locking this.’
‘Sorry, love. Force of habit. I had a delivery and forgot.’
Maya ran her hand through her hair as she bristled with annoyance. ‘We’ve talked about this. Now he’s out you need to take more precautions. You’re stressing me out by not taking this seriously.’
Dominique gathered Maya into a hug. ‘I’m sorry, love. That’s the last thing I want to do. Listen, I’ll leave a note on the door to remind myself, okay? And, to prove I do listen to you, I’ve arranged for someone to come and fit a burglar alarm with a panic button both upstairs and downstairs. The company I’ve chosen are busy though, so they can’t come until after Christmas now.’
‘Did you not tell him it’s urgent? Try and find someone else?’
‘Maya, it’ll be fine. Also, I’ve ordered us both a personal attack alarm online. They’ll be here in a few days.’
Maya smiled, satisfied at least that Dominique was listening to her concerns.
‘All done?’ Dominique asked, nodding towards the shopping bags.
‘Yes, thankfully. I’m glad that’s over. I’ve a couple of other bits which I ordered online for Chris, but this is the last of it. Can I leave this stuff in my old room for now? I’ll collect and wrap them another time, I’ve had enough for one day.’
‘Of course you can.’
‘No peeking though. Your present might be in there too.’
‘I promise,’ Dominique said with a grin. ‘Leave the bags on the floor there and I’ll take them up to your room later. Are you staying for lunch? I’ve time to make us something before I head back to the surgery.’
‘No thanks. There’s a mid-week communion at St Mary’s I’d like to go to. I’ve not been for a while.’
‘Please yourself. But before you go, I’ve been thinking about Christmas. I know you’re working, so how about we bring it forward?’
‘I think Jesus might object.’
Dominique laughed. ‘For someone with faith, you’re very blasphemous. I was thinking about the Monday. Stay over Sunday night after work. You’re working a mid-shift, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. I should be finished by seven.’
‘Great. Well, on Monday we can swap presents and have Christmas dinner. Tuesday can be our Boxing Day. I can book leave so I’m off the same days as you. We can just slob out, eat and drink too much and watch rubbish television together. What do you think?’
‘I think it sounds perfect,’ said Maya, kissing Dominique on the cheek.
‘Enjoy church.’
‘You could come with me, if you like. It might help you get into the festive spirit?’
Dominique laughed. ‘I don’t want to risk getting struck by a thunderbolt.’
Maya rolled her eyes and waved goodbye, blowing Dominique a kiss as she rode away.
Twenty minutes later she arrived at St Mary’s. It was a pretty church, small but packed with character. Maya nodded hello to a couple of familiar faces, before settling in a pew and bowing her head. The familiar scent of the church enveloped her. The smell of old books, furniture polish and freshly cut flowers. She began to pray silently, sharing her thoughts with God, thinking particularly of John Doe and Rose Dawlish, until it was time for the service to begin.
Mid-week communion was a short forty-five-minute affair. It was an abridged version of the previous Sunday’s service. As always, it soothed her soul and passed far too quickly. Reverend Hopwood invited anyone who wanted to stay for tea. Maya was initially going to decline, but the peace of the church following the mayhem of shopping was succour for the soul.
She’d been chatting to a couple of parishioners she knew, when a man standing on the periphery caught her eye. He was unremarkable to look at; short, balding, wearing glasses and dressed in jeans and a conservative-looking anorak, but something about him seemed familiar. He was holding a teacup with a chocolate digestive balancing precariously on a saucer and looking slightly awkward.
She smiled. ‘Hi, I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Maya.’
He blushed slightly, smiling shyly back at her. ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Tony. I’d shake your hand, but…’ He tailed off as he looked at the cup and saucer in his hands, as if he was surprised to see them.
Maya laughed. ‘I can see you’ve got a juggling act going on. Are you local, Tony?’
‘I’m not but my friends live near here. I’ve just been dropping off Christmas cards and saw the service was on and I thought I’d pop in. It’s a lovely church.’
‘It certainly is,’ Maya agreed. ‘I don’t come as often as I’d like. I’ve been Christmas shopping, so after an overdose of commercialism, thought I’d drop in. Just like you.’
They chatted about the service for a while and then Tony asked about her plans for Christmas. She told him how she was working and had just arranged to stay with her mum for a couple of days so they could have an early Christmas.
They’d been chatting for about half an hour when Maya heard teacups being washed noisily in the sink – a subtle hint that it was time to leave.
‘It was nice to talk to you, Tony,’ Maya said as she shrugged on her coat. She waved goodbye to the others and they walked companionably to the car park.
‘Lovely to meet you, Maya,’ Tony said as they shook hands. ‘I may pop in again sometime. I hope you and Dominique have a lovely Christmas.’
It was only later that evening when Maya was relaxing in a bubble bath listening to an audiobook, that she recalled her conversation with Tony. She frowned as she recalled his parting words as he had wished her and Dominique a lovely Christmas. It was as if the water suddenly chilled around her. During the conversation, she had referred to her as ‘Mum’. So, how did Tony know Dominique’s name?
46
The office was filled with the mouth-watering aroma of fish and chips. Maya and Chris had been working a day shift together. They’d been at the rota garage examining stolen cars. Although they’d been sheltered from the sheet of rain, the garage had been freezing. The wind had pulled angrily at the metal roller-shutter doors, the sound alone making them shiver. It was easily a couple of degrees colder in there than it had been outside.
Chris had suggested a chippy lunch as a treat to warm themselves back up. He looked perplexed as he took a sip of tea whilst Maya told him about the man she’d met at church.
‘Did anything about him seem odd when you were talking to him?’ he asked.
‘No. He seemed nice.’
Chris rubbed his stubble. ‘You must have mentioned Dominique’s name,’ he said eventually.
Maya shook her head determinedly. ‘I didn’t. I know I didn’t.’
Chris belched noisily as he gathered up the chip paper. ‘Look, work has been really busy lately and you’ve had the added stress of Naylor being released. I think you’re either misremembering the conversation or it could be paranoia, which is perfectly understandable. No offence, love, but you do look tired.’
Maya slapped a hand on the desk. ‘That’s because I’ve hardly slept with going over it. I appreciate what you’re saying, but I know I didn’t say her name.’
‘Did someone else maybe? Did he overhear one of the others asking how she was?’
