A Perfect Likeness (13 page)

*

Trish deliberately avoided Sylvia Page. She had felt frightened in her company the day before. She remembered those cold, empty eyes and wondered what evil she was hiding. The thought sent shivers down her spine. It had been a good day with the questionnaire, another twenty-six responses, but it was going to be a mammoth task
. I won’t have enough time to complete them all,
she thought and started to mentally calculate how many per day she would need to do. ‘Almost fifty, it’s impossible,’ she said to anybody who was in earshot. ‘And now it’s raining again. Damn, damn, damn.’

‘Trish, can you hear me? Greg says you must come in straight away. He doesn’t want you catching a cold,’ said the receptionist’s voice over the radio.

Trish was not about to argue. ‘Thanks, on my way.’

As she approached the reception jetty she saw Sylvia Page walking with an older man. Trish presumed him to be Edward Page. There was no way to avoid them without making it obvious.

‘Hi, Trish,’ shouted Sylvia Page, ‘come and meet my father.’

‘Nice to meet you, Mr Page, your daughter was very kind to me yesterday, my first day here. Made me most welcome. Wish I was permanent, a great place to work despite the rain.’

‘Good to meet you too. No doubt we’ll bump into each other from time to time and keep on enjoying it.’

As Trish climbed the steps to the reception office her eyes followed the Pages and wondered what they were really up to. They appeared so normal, but they had to be bad. Very bad. And whilst Edward Page was courteous he wasn’t keen to talk. Her mobile rang, breaking her train of thought. She knew it was Jackie as she’d given her a special ringing tone, ‘jingling-bells’. ‘Yes, Jackie, what’s the problem?’

‘No problem at all,’ said Jackie, her voice not hiding her high spirits. ‘Sorry to phone you at work, but I thought you ought to know I’ve got some information. Trish, I cannot believe it. I have the agency, Azure Travel in the Alleys. She went to Spain four months ago, by plane and she …’

‘Jackie, Jackie, stop for a moment, please,’ interrupted Trish. ‘Good, that’s better. Now calm down and take it slowly. Okay?’

‘Right, sorry, but I feel a mixture of anger and excitement. You see, she
has
used Victoria’s passport. The manager, I think he must be the owner as it’s only a small place, was very helpful. Said he remembered her very well as she was the first person he’d had in requesting this particular destination and she only wanted to stop one night to carry out some urgent business. I asked if he could remember when Miss Page went to Spain and he said her name wasn’t Page and she was married. I asked him how he could remember these things and he said it’s amazing what you can remember about a customer when they are a bit different. He checked his records and told me her name was Mrs Victoria Campbell and she bought a first class return to Santiago de Compostela in the north west of Spain. I struggled to control my anger and asked whether he had an address. Apparently she was in the middle of moving house at the time and was unable to give a reliable address so she gave a friends. She paid cash for the tickets. It’s just like you said it would be. I feel sick in my stomach. What do you think is going on, Trish?’

‘First of all, I think you’ve achieved a miracle. How about going into partnership? Obviously footslogging is your forte.’

‘No thanks, I’ll stick to part-time. By the way, before I forget, Mack phoned to say he has got your car ready for whenever you want it. It’s parked behind the pub.’

‘Great, I’ll thank him later. I feel so guilty having to rely on you all the time. We’ll talk later. Well done, Jackie, I’d say you have come up with just what we need. See you at six.’

*

‘Can we eat at The Study tonight?’ asked Trish, ‘or shall I try and find something in the cupboard?’

‘The Study sounds ideal and poor old Mack is dying to see you again. Give him some more of your time, Trish, it will do you both good.’

‘I’ve been such a cow to him lately, I feel sure he’s just being kind to me now. How could it be any more?’

‘Give him an opportunity to show you, I think you might be pleasantly surprised. If you want to be, that is?’

‘Oh, Jackie, you know what the answer is. It is yes, a very big yes, but do you really think he wants the same? Or is he just being nice to me?’

‘How many more times do you have to be told? Come on, let’s give him that chance to show you.’

Mack was pulling a pint when they entered, but noticed them straight away. ‘This one’s on the house, mate,’ he said in a rush to greet Trish.

‘Where have you been, Trish? Thought you had gone off somewhere.’

‘No, Mack, no more of that. I didn’t think you’d want anything more to do with me after… .’

He reached across the bar and took hold of her hands. ‘Let me stop you there, young lady. I want everything to do with you.’ He kissed both her hands. ‘I’ve waited patiently for such a long time, but now I believe we could be getting somewhere.’ He wiped the tears from his eyes as he turned towards Jackie. ‘Hi, Jackie, take no notice of me, I’m getting sentimental. I’ll go and get your drinks.’

‘You see,’ said Jackie wiping Trish’s eyes with the corner of her handkerchief. ‘Just look at the pair of you. Now do you believe me?’

‘Yes, but what do I do now? It’s a long time since I’ve been courted.’

‘I’m sure it will all come back to you.’

‘Here you are, girls, red wine all round. Tonight we celebrate.’

Trish looked towards Jackie and then to Mack. ‘I can’t have alcohol any more, Mack. I’m sorry.’

He smiled and fetched a bottle from under the bar. ‘I tried several before getting a box of this one. It’s not bad. Look, zero alcohol. Not the slightest hint of the stuff.’ He pointed to the label. ‘And the three of us are drinking it. Raise your glasses, girls. To Trish, welcome back.’

‘Come round this side of the bar, Mack, just for one moment.’

They hugged and she kissed him.

‘It’s good to be back and you don’t have to wait any longer.’

‘Happy hour,’ he shouted from back behind the bar, ‘two drinks for the price of one.’ He turned to the girls and winked.

‘You soon got the knack back, Trish,’ said Jackie. ‘Let’s eat, I’m starving.’

They spoke a lot between eating. The single topic conversation, Miss Sylvia Page. This lady had met Victoria not long before she was murdered and they were so alike she must have been the ‘twin’ Victoria spoke to Michael about. Sylvia Page and Rawston were recognised by staff at Maxfords and the café owners and Sylvia Page had used Victoria’s identity to travel to Spain.

‘This is all so unreal,’ said Jackie.

‘No, Jackie, this
is
for real. I believe we are now on the way to finding out the truth about Victoria’s death and I’ll tell you something else, I am
now
convinced Michael is
not
a murderer. With what we have I’d say it was the right time to pay Inspector Deckman a visit. I think to go any further without doing so might be dangerous for us and could jeopardise Michael’s chances of release.’

‘I’ll drink to that, Trish.’ Jackie raised her glass. ‘To Michael’s release.’

‘To Michael’s release,’ agreed Trish.

Chapter 10

DI Deckman slid back his chair, got up and walked across the well worn carpet to the window. It was his usual practice on occasions such as this when deep consideration was necessary. He needed his ‘thinking window’. He ignored the traffic and people two floors below; oblivious to everything except his thoughts. This time his thoughts related only to his own failure. It was a feeling new to him and the experience was already tearing him apart.

Jackie wanted to speak and grabbed hold of Trish’s arm. Trish pressed a finger to her lips signalling Jackie to remain silent.

Deckman believed there was a possibility of a mistake. He felt that could have been the case when he read the letter. He did not want to believe it then and did not wish to believe it now. But there was no choice. He was angry with himself at allowing this to happen and now he has been taught a lesson by a private investigator. A private investigator who had lived in an alcoholic trance for six months had found out what he hadn’t. Things often don’t appear as they are, but he had not queried the evidence he’d had. Why hadn’t he asked the right questions two years ago? It had all seemed so straightforward then. He had not expected Jackie to return with evidence. He had hoped she wouldn’t and now Deckman was finding it difficult to accept his mistake. A mistake that has resulted in the wrong person having to spend two years in prison for a crime he did not commit.

He turned and stood with his back to the window. ‘A short while ago when Jackie showed me the letter from Michael it was impossible for me to take any action for the obvious reason there was no new evidence, but now I believe there
are
sufficient grounds for me to take another look. First of all I need to speak with my Chief Inspector after which I will be able to advise our intentions and I’m sure it will be within the next day or two. I would also ask you not to dig any further, Miss Lister, as it might conflict with any investigation we may carry out. Please continue with your normal duties at the marina. I must say what you have achieved is nothing short of remarkable and the presentation of the statements is perfect. I wish my crew were as precise. May I hang on to them?’

‘Of course, Inspector Deckman, they are for you. I appreciated you will need to check it all out and I have informed all of the people concerned that the police may wish to speak with them.’

‘Thank you. I will be in contact very soon.’

Deckman had picked up his phone and dialled his Chief Inspector as the women left the office.

‘Why don’t you come over straight away, Terry, you know I’m always pleased to see you. Give me five minutes to put my make-up on.’

Deckman had hoped it would be the following day so he could plan his approach. She’d got him off-guard again and he didn’t like it.

‘I’m with the Chief for a while, Bob,’ he said to DC Kensit as he passed through the outer office. He got to the door and stopped. ‘By the way, Bob, show my mug another drop of bleach will you, every sip is like looking into a manhole.’

‘Er… yes, Sir, will do. Sorry, Sir.’ Kensit was the newest member of the Serious Crimes unit and was continually on edge in the company of his superior officers. His well chewed-nails were the result of his nervousness.

Deckman winked and smiled at his crimson-faced DC. The nearer he got to his Chief’s office the more uncomfortable he became. He slowed his pace, hoping to gain a few more seconds to compose himself. She always made him feel anxious and he never knew what to expect from her. Chief Inspector Joan White had been a very successful member of the force for twenty-eight years and divorced for the last five. She knew Deckman had a first-rate marriage, but she never wasted an opportunity to tease him.

‘Come in, Terry,’ commanded the smooth, authoritative voice in response to Deckman’s lightweight knock.

By the time he had entered, the Chief Inspector was there offering her hand and giving him, ‘that look’. He wasn’t sure exactly what ‘that look’ was supposed to mean, but he only ever saw it when they were alone.

One of these days she’s going to kiss me on the cheek
, he thought
, or even worse, on the lips.
He couldn’t be sure it was just a tease and he was also unsure how he would react if it developed into an obvious proposition. He hoped he would never have to make that decision. He had become paranoid about her.

‘Not seen you to speak with for a day or so and now you decide you need me right this minute.’ She indicated for him to take a seat.

Deckman smiled and did as he was silently instructed.
Oh, grief, she’s started already
, he thought again. He expected a tough meeting.

‘Thanks for seeing me at such short notice, Joan. I need to talk with you about a murder investigation I was responsible for two years ago that I now fear might have resulted in the wrong person being imprisoned. I wish to seek your permission to …’

‘Wait a moment, Terry,’ the CI butted in, ‘first things first. How’s Jenny and the family?’

‘Sorry, they are all fine and thanks for asking. It’s just that I’ve had a meeting with a private investigator and Jackie Salter, the sister of the victim, Victoria Campbell. She was murdered in her kitchen. Do you remember the case?’

‘Yes, I do, the husband did it.’

‘Well, that’s what all the evidence suggested at the time.’

‘But?’

‘But now I have received some new information that I think deserves to be followed up.’ He detailed the new evidence.

Joan White paced two full circuits of the office while she thought. Then she sat, removed her glasses and gently massaged the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

‘I am having a devil of a problem with these new bifocals.’ She folded them and returned them to the security of their case. ‘No doubt I will get used to them in time. Right, I have the details, but you have yet to tell me what the permission is you wish me to give. Don’t tell me I am such an ogre that you are frightened to ask.’