Authors: Gina Blaxill
I sank back into the sofa, tired all of a sudden. Fay squeezed my hand. Why I’d told her all of this I didn’t know. Maybe it was just because she’d been willing to listen, or
maybe it was easier telling a stranger. Saying what I was afraid of didn’t make it any less frightening – but it helped me feel less like I was going mad.
I left Fay’s feeling a little better and went for a walk along the seafront to clear my head. At about half six I saw that the pier was getting busy; the funfair at the
end was open. I wandered along to see what was going on, more on automatic than because I wanted to.
The pier rides weren’t up to much. There was a merry-go-round Reece had christened ‘the Euro ride’ because it was decorated with European flag bunting, a big wheel for kids and
several stalls with games ranging from shooting ducks with an air rifle to throwing weighted balls through hoops.
We had such fun here, I thought; me, Reece and Dani. Standing here and seeing the ghosts of better times was so painful that I turned to leave – then felt a hand on my shoulder.
It was a rugged-looking man in his mid-forties wearing a beanie hat. After a moment I realized he was the proprietor of the air-rifle stall.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘You Danielle’s sister?’
For a moment I thought I was hearing things. But then it came back to me. This guy and his wife had been friendly with Dani. I remembered her chatting to them, and me and Reece having a couple
of free goes.
‘Her cousin,’ I said. ‘I remember you! My friend argued with you over your game’s rules.’
‘Yeah, you and Danielle thought it was a right laugh.’ He made a face. ‘Is he always that mouthy, your mate?’
‘Pretty much,’ I said.
The man introduced himself as Jed. ‘You’re probably bored with people saying this, but I’m really sorry about Danielle,’ he said. ‘Couldn’t believe it. She
was only a kid.’
I shrugged. ‘Yeah.’
Jed gave me a look, and I had the feeling that he was weighing up whether to tell me something. I waited. After a long pause Jed said, ‘We only knew her for a few weeks, but we liked your
cousin, the wife and me. Felt a bit sorry for her.’
‘Why was that?’
‘Didn’t strike me as happy. Not that I knew the full of it, but she chatted to us quite a bit.’
That sounded like Danielle, latching on to people. I glanced over my shoulder, then back at Jed. ‘Did she seem . . . scared to you?’
‘I was wondering if you were going to ask that.’
Canned music blasted out; the Euro ride had started up again. Jed and I moved to the pier side, where we didn’t have to shout.
‘She
was
scared looking-over-your-shoulder scared,’ he said. She’d got into some kind of trouble and she was worried she was going to be caught.’
‘Please . . . you’ve got to tell me everything you know. It’s important.’
He gave me a long look. ‘Exactly what she did I don’t know, but she said she’d got hold of some information she wasn’t supposed to have. Information she thought might be
dangerous.’
‘Did she mention Aiden at all? Her ex?’
‘Yeah. She was obviously really upset about them breaking up. Kept calling him a cheating bastard. She seemed to blame him for everything.’
I took this in, rearranging the dynamics between Dani and Aiden in my head. So he’d roped her into this – and he’d cheated on her too? It had to be with Cherie. I bet Dani had
wanted nothing further to do with him – or what he’d asked her to do. Maybe that was why she’d quit her job and run away.
‘Not much more I can tell you.’ Jed’s eyes were on his stand. ‘But she did say she needed to make a decision – whether to speak up or shut up – and I
don’t know which she chose. The local paper said it was suicide, but me and the wife didn’t believe it. Doesn’t tally.’
I thanked Jed and let him get back to work. He’d given me a lot to think about – and some much-needed reassurance.
I bought myself a notebook from the station newsagent’s before catching my train. There was so much information racing around in my head I was scared I’d lose
it.
So – what did I know? Aiden, Cherie and Dani all worked together at Vaughan-Bayard. After they’d started seeing each other, Aiden had asked Dani to access confidential information
– presumably to sell on. Dani had done this, believing at first it was the right thing to do. And then at some point she’d found out Aiden had cheated on her. She’d have felt
hurt, angry and, above all, used.
I wondered if Aiden had ever really liked Danielle – perhaps he’d manipulated her right from the start. He’d have broken her heart, I thought, filled with rage and sadness on
Danielle’s behalf. You had to be seriously cruel to use another person that way.
But there had been more to Dani running away than that. Aiden had mentioned her ‘attack of conscience’ – and Jed had said Dani had been scared and was thinking of
‘speaking up’. And where did the serious side effects come into this?
I laid down my pen and looked out of the window. It wasn’t a very interesting journey – right now we were coming into Southampton Airport station. The last time I’d passed
through here had been roughly the time Dani had fallen . . .
Why did my mind keep going back to those dowsing crystals? A few had been scattered about the flat when Reece and I had been there. I could remember Dani taking the mick out of them.
Dowsing crystals . . .
I wondered how Cherie had felt when Aiden and Dani had got together. She must have known Aiden was using her to get information, but it still would have made her sour. Dani wouldn’t have
known that – she thought Cherie was her friend . . .
And then my mind slipped back to the dowsing crystals and I realized why they bothered me.
When I’d phoned Cherie about Reece’s work experience we’d talked about Dani’s hobbies. Cherie had reeled off a list – shopping, watching soaps, cinema . . . and
dowsing crystals. That had jarred at the time – it sounded so unlike Dani. And it was such a
specific
interest to mention – Cherie wasn’t the kind who made mistakes.
Danielle only had one connection to dowsing crystals I could think of – Fay’s flat.
How well had Cherie known Dani? Maybe far less than I’d assumed, given that Cherie probably hadn’t liked Dani as much as she’d pretended. That list of hobbies was really vague
apart from the crystals. Maybe she’d thrown them in because she’d been struggling to think of things?
But to know about the crystals, Cherie would have to have been in Fay’s flat. It was the only explanation. And as Danielle had been tracked down by Aiden the weekend she died, that meant
Cherie would only have had one opportunity to go there – the Sunday Dani died.
I didn’t remember anything of the journey after that. I sleepwalked off the train, across Waterloo station and down on to the Northern line.
My skin was goose-pimpling all over but I felt strangely calm, perhaps because for the first time my thoughts were making perfect sense.
Cherie must have confronted Danielle in the flat. Perhaps she and Aiden had come down to Bournemouth together that weekend. I knew from what Reece had learned at Vaughan-Bayard that Aiden had
been furious with Dani for disappearing – he must have been terrified she’d give the game away. Especially if Dani knew that the drug in development had side-effects issues – she
might have told Patrick, and then the deal definitely would have been off. The side effects could even have been the nail in the coffin for Dani’s involvement. She might be naive with people,
but she knew right from wrong. Selling on a drug formula was one thing, but selling on a dangerous drug formula was definitely a bad idea.
Aiden and Cherie had probably decided that Aiden should approach Dani. It had been proved that he’d left before Dani died, but that wouldn’t stop Cherie staying behind – I bet
she didn’t trust Aiden to persuade Danielle to keep quiet. And hey, maybe she’d intended to go one step further and get rid of any physical evidence – Edith, and Danielle’s
phone! I knew that her phone hadn’t been on her when she died and had never been found. But Cherie wouldn’t have been able to do anything about Edith – because
I
had
her!
The big question was whether Cherie would have been prepared to commit murder.
It was so extreme that I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. Cherie was definitely ruthless, and had probably been seething with jealousy the whole time Dani was with Aiden – but a
killer? Maybe her ‘chat’ with Dani had turned into a fight. Or perhaps she’d come armed and angry . . . which would fit with Dani being afraid enough to back off the balcony.
And all this meant that Dani
wasn’t
mentally ill or deeply unhappy – just involved with some seriously bad people.
‘It’s sketchy,’ I muttered to myself. ‘But it makes sense.’
But even if I was right about everything, there was still a big problem – proving it.
The next morning I was in a dilemma. I really wanted to make up with Reece and tell him what I’d worked out, but I swiftly realized that it would just make him even more
hurt and angry. He’d been pretty clear that he thought pursuing this investigation was putting his family in danger. It was funny, considering how much I thought about the meaning of family,
that I hadn’t realized how protective Reece was of his.
No, I’d have to give Reece time to cool off before calling him. I was so sure I was right about Dani, but there was no way of proving it. Cherie hadn’t left any evidence, and I
couldn’t even prove that she had been in Bournemouth that weekend. Unless . . .
Seven the next evening found me lurking in Vaughan-Bayard’s underground car park. I’d managed to slip under the barrier when a car had driven out. Each time someone
came down in the lift I ducked behind the rubbish bins. I wasn’t sure if anyone would confront me, but I didn’t want to run the risk.
It was eerie waiting down there; it could have been any time, night or day, and I wouldn’t know. There had to be about sixty parking spaces; most had been vacated. There had been a steady
flow of employees leaving since I’d arrived at five thirty, but none of them had been the person I was waiting for.
Though I was uncomfortable and afraid and rapidly losing my nerve, since Bournemouth I somehow felt I was seeing the world with clarity, as though I’d put on a new pair of glasses. In the
pocket of my hoody I was hiding a Dictaphone, finger poised to hit the record button. The Dictaphone belonged to Julie – I knew she had it, because I’d used it for a school project
about transcribing conversations.
This is a classic scenario for a good reason, I thought. I’d seen it on television over and over again – amateur sleuths confronting criminals who slipped up and got caught on tape.
There was absolutely no reason it shouldn’t work, providing I was bold enough.
And then the lift doors pinged and Cherie stepped out.
For a moment I was paralysed by a mixture of fear and violent dislike. But then I came to life, jumping out from behind the bins.
‘Cherie!’
She turned around. She looked impeccable, even after what must have been a long day. Perhaps she’d popped out at lunch – she was holding a couple of Monsoon carrier bags. Yet again
she was wearing shoes the same red as her hair; she looked slightly unreal, like a Cluedo character or something. For a second I hesitated, my finger fluttering over the Dictaphone. Seeing her
here, so cool and composed, made me doubt. Could she
really
have pushed my cousin off that balcony? Surely even she couldn’t be so ruthless . . . And then I found I didn’t care, because this
was my moment, and I might not get the chance again. I pressed downwards and felt the tape whirr.
Cherie was just looking at me. The last thing I wanted was to get near to her, but I knew I had to if I wanted a decent recording.
‘I want the truth about my cousin,’ I said shakily. ‘I know you were there the weekend she died.’
She raised an eyebrow, an unimpressed expression on her face; I wondered if she had looked at Dani that way too. ‘How long have you been hanging around here?’
‘I know you were there.’
‘Go home, Sophie.’ And Cherie started walking towards a black Polo parked a few metres away. I started after her.
‘I need to talk! I know you killed her!’
Shit, this wasn’t going right. Somehow she’d got me flustered, and I had no idea how to save the situation. Cherie ignored me. She pointed her keys at the car and the doors unlocked
with a click, backlights flashing in welcome. Cherie opened the boot and began lifting the carrier bags in – and then things unfolded very quickly.
A car shot out of a parking space at the other end of the car park. Its wheels screeched as it zoomed towards us. Cherie glanced up. The car swerved towards Cherie. She started to move, and then
there was a scream and a sickening thud and a flutter of red. I flung up my arms to shield myself, unsure what was happening for a few seconds, until I realized that the car was speeding towards
the exit and there was a crumpled body lying on the ground.
I stared, transfixed. Cherie was lying on her front and she wasn’t moving. I could see what looked like a pool of blood. Her legs were twisted at an unnatural angle; they had to be broken.
And as for the rest of her . . .
There was a bleep behind me. A second later someone said, ‘Oh my God!’ A man and a woman ran out of the lift and knelt by Cherie, both crying out in horror.
‘Phone an ambulance!’ the man shouted. The woman dug into her bag and suddenly I found I was moving, running towards the exit, desperate to get away. This wasn’t real, it
couldn’t be. One moment she’d been giving me the brush-off – the next, tumbling over the bonnet . . .
And underneath all the horror, I had the cold, terrible realization that I might have just witnessed a murder.
I was sprawled on the sofa with Mum, watching
The King’s Speech
, when the doorbell shrilled. Mum pressed pause on the DVD, looking annoyed.
‘Were you expecting anyone?’
I wasn’t. I’d planned an early night. My cricket team had a match tomorrow, down in south London, so I’d need to be up early to get the minibus at 7 a.m. Afraid something was
up, I shushed her. We waited. A couple of seconds later the bell rang again, accompanied by banging. I pushed the cushion on my lap aside.