‘Flowers frightened her?’ Mariner didn’t understand.
‘Sorry, I’m not making myself clear. They were dead flowers - beautifully wrapped and in a presentation box, but, when she opened it up, they were all dead.’
‘Could they just have been left too long in the box?’
‘No, there was a note with them, something about “these flowers are dead and soon you will be too”.’ Mariner scribbled it down as she spoke. ‘I think there was mention of an anniversary, except that it wasn’t the anniversary of anything. I remember Mum was quite scared by it. It happened ages ago, though, and I’d completely forgotten about it.’ There was sudden silence as the implication hit home. ‘Do you think it could have been Mum’s killer?’
‘Can you remember exactly when this happened?’ Mariner asked, side-stepping her question. ‘It may be really important.’
‘Adam might, hold on a moment.’ Rachel turned away from the phone and in the background Mariner heard a discussion ensue, as she and her husband tried to pinpoint the occasion. Mariner waited patiently, giving them as much time as they needed. This could be crucial.
Eventually, Rachel returned to the phone. ‘We can’t be a hundred per cent, but we think it was around this time last year; March or April. In fact, it must have been early March. It was just before our wedding.’
‘Would your stepmother have told anyone else about this?’ Mariner asked.
‘She might have. I don’t really know.’
‘Did she report it to the police?’
‘I don’t think so, because after that the phone calls and everything dried up, so I think she just thought whoever it was had lost interest, or maybe even had made a mistake and sent the flowers to the wrong person.’
‘Have you any idea if she kept them, or the note?’ Even as he asked, Mariner knew that the chances were slim and that either way Rachel was unlikely to know.
‘I can’t imagine that she did. I think she couldn’t wait to get rid of them.’
With the customary undertaking to keep in touch, Mariner ended the call.
‘Something for you to look out for,’ Mariner said to Knox. He recounted the episode with the flowers, as Rachel had told it to him.
‘Sounds charming,’ said Knox.
Knox drove them back to Granville Lane, and Mariner went to pick up his own car. Thankfully there was no sign of Stephanie.
‘Don’t forget this,’ Knox called as he got out. Reaching down, he picked up the lunch box and tossed it to Mariner, who deftly caught it.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Get the computer across to Max and make a start on going through the paperwork from Nina Silvero’s. Meet me at the dance school at three.’
‘Where are you going, boss?’ Knox asked.
‘To see her best friend.’
It was a day of sunshine and showers; a squall had blown up as Millie arrived with Lucy at her house, and they had to make a dash from their cars. Late morning the estate was quiet, most people out at work, but the postman had already delivered and Lucy opened the front door on to a deluge of plastic-sheathed catalogues, from, among others, an outfit called Yummy Mummy Maternity clothes and baby products for the mother-to-be, as well as others on nursery furniture and design.
‘It’s getting worse,’ Lucy cried, starting to gather it all up. ‘There are more today than ever. How can I stop Will from seeing them?’
‘I’ll take them with me,’ said Millie, picking up what Lucy couldn’t manage. ‘I’ll follow up with the companies and see if there’s any chance of tracing who ordered them.’ Though she knew it was unlikely.
Between them they took everything through to the kitchen and dumped it on the counter, where Lucy ripped open one of the more legitimate-looking envelopes. ‘I mean, look at this!’ She waved a letter in front of Millie’s face. It was to thank Lucy, in person, for her enquiry into nursery design.
We will be happy to come and see you as arranged on Thursday, 27 April
. . . ‘I haven’t booked this appointment. What if they turn up when Will’s here?’ Lucy cried. ‘He’ll go ballistic.’ Suddenly her face paled and, clamping a hand over her mouth, she ran out of the room.
Seconds later Millie heard the sound of retching. After pouring a glass of water, Millie took it down the hall to the cloakroom. By the time she got there Lucy was wiping her mouth.
‘Are you OK?’ Millie asked, squeezing her arm.
‘Must be something I ate.’ Lucy took the glass gratefully.
Back in the kitchen Millie steered Lucy to a breakfast-bar stool. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll phone and cancel and explain what has happened.’ She picked up the letter. ‘Come on, you need to try to calm down a bit. Let’s sit and go through these systematically.’
Moments later Millie held up a card, the kind the postman leaves when there’s no one home. ‘Are you expecting a parcel?’ she asked.
Lucy shook her head.
‘It’s been left at number sixteen.’
‘That’s Martin’s house across the road.’
‘OK, I’ll go and get it.’ Millie got up and retrieved her car keys. ‘If it’s more of the same I can put it straight in my car, OK?’
Lucy nodded miserably. ‘I’ve been getting lots of junk on the computer too. You should probably see that. I’ll go and switch it on.’
‘Good idea.’
Outside, the rain had stopped and the sun was shining again. Millie crossed the road to number sixteen, though it took her a couple of minutes to be sure she had the right house, the numbers were so obscure. No car on the drive, but perhaps it was in the garage. She rang the doorbell, which she could hardly hear above the constant droning of what sounded like a distant lawnmower. Minutes later she was still waiting. She rang again and walked across to the window and peered in. No sign of life inside. She looked at the time on the card - it had been filled in a couple of hours ago. Whoever had taken in the parcel must have subsequently gone out. Coming back down the drive, she noticed for the first time the silver Honda parked a little way down the street, half on the pavement. She was sure it was the car that had been there yesterday. It looked empty and walking a bit nearer confirmed it. She looked around; it could have belonged to someone visiting any of the adjacent houses, but she noted down the description and number anyway.
Millie went back to Lucy’s house and found her upstairs staring at the computer screen. Her in-box was stuffed with junk emails, mostly with a similar parental theme, along with the acknowledgements for registering with several Internet dating sites.
‘I keep getting these replies from some new mothers’ forum.’ She pointed at the screen. ‘But I haven’t joined those sites, why on earth would I?’
‘This person is trying to unnerve you, Lucy, that’s the intention. Try not to let it get to you.’ But even as she said it Millie knew what a tall order that was.
‘I feel so foolish.’ Lucy dragged her fingers through her hair. ‘I’m meant to be an intelligent and confident woman, yet I feel like a wreck, and all because of a bit of stupid post.’
As if to underline the point, the phone rang and Lucy jumped out of her skin. ‘It’s him! It’s happening again! How does he know I’m here?’
‘He might not,’ said Millie calmly. ‘And I’m here now anyway. Let me.’ She picked up the ringing phone. ‘Hello?’
A woman’s voice responded uncertainly: ‘Hi, is that Lucy?’
‘No,’ said Millie. ‘Can I ask who’s calling?’
‘Sure, it’s Tess Maguire. I was actually hoping to catch Will before he leaves. Is he there?’ With the hint of an Irish accent, this woman sounded bright and relaxed. Millie was sure this wasn’t their nuisance caller. ‘Just a moment,’ she said. Covering the mouthpiece, she said, ‘It’s someone called Tess, for Will?’
Lucy had recovered enough to roll her eyes in response. ‘Tell her I’ll ask him to call her back when he gets in, or to try his mobile. At least it means he hasn’t gone running to her.’
‘Did you think he might have?’
‘No, not really.’
Millie did as she was bidden and ended the call. ‘Who is she?’ she asked Lucy.
‘She sings with the band,’ Lucy said, making it sound as if that was a bad thing. ‘She calls him quite a lot.’
‘Are they close?’ Millie asked.
Again the defences came up. ‘Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but Will and Tess go back a long time, they’re old friends, and that’s it.’
‘I’m not implying anything, Lucy,’ Millie said calmly. ‘I just want to find out what’s going on.’
‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry.’
‘What’s bothering you, Lucy?’
Lucy sighed heavily. ‘The other night, when I called Will, there was a woman nearby. As I ended the call I heard her say, “Kiss me, baby.” It was like she said it when she thought he’d switched off his phone.’
‘You sure she was talking to Will?’
‘I can’t be sure, of course, but it was very close.’
‘Was it Tess?’
‘I don’t think so, but I couldn’t be sure.’
‘Where do you think Will went last night?’ Millie asked.
‘I don’t know. To Leigh’s probably. I guess he’ll go straight to the gig from there.’
Millie glanced down at the computer. ‘We could really do with taking this in to the station, so that our technicians can do a thorough search of the hard drive. That way we may be able to trace back to where some of these emails have come from.’
If it were possible, Lucy looked even more stricken. ‘I don’t think Will would like that. He uses it a lot when he’s at home, dealing with correspondence for the band, setting up gigs and all that. ’
And the rest, thought Millie. ‘Whose computer is it?’
‘Well, it was mine before Will moved in, obviously, but -’
‘Well, then, with respect, it’s your decision, Lucy. Can I take it now? The quicker we do it, the quicker I can get it back to you. Will may never even need to know.’ Millie was more than aware that she was taking advantage of Lucy’s vulnerability, bulldozing her like this, but there were several reasons why she wanted their technicians to examine Will Jarrett’s online habits. ‘It won’t take long, I promise.’
What else could Lucy do but cave in? She shut down the computer and between them they disconnected it so that Millie could take it away.
As Millie turned to leave the room, something glinted out on the street and caught her eye, but, when she peered more closely out of the window, she couldn’t determine what it was that she’d seen.
Having stowed the computer safely in her boot, along with all the junk mail, Millie waited while Lucy locked up the house, and watched her drive away and back to work. She was just starting up her own car, when, in her rearview mirror she noticed some activity around the silver Honda. A woman was standing behind the open boot, heaving in a wet and dry vacuum cleaner and what looked like a couple of baskets of multi-coloured dusters. She wore a green tabard, and Millie realised that this must be the estate’s ‘little treasure’. Millie wondered if she regularly serviced houses in the area. If she did, she was the kind of person who just might notice what went on. Weighing up the pros and cons of disclosure, Millie decided that the advantages were more. She got back out of her car, warrant card at the ready, and retraced her steps along the road. She suddenly wondered what Suli would think about the idea of them having a cleaner. The parents would disapprove, of course, but he’d probably be OK and it would make her life a whole lot easier.
As Millie got close to the car a gust of wind snatched a couple of dusters out of the woman’s basket and blew them down the pavement towards her. Millie deftly caught them and passed them back to the woman.
‘Thanks.’ The woman smiled. ‘It’s really blowing one today, isn’t it?’ Though not especially tall, she was a large woman and still slightly breathless from the exertion of loading the vacuum. Her hair was tied back behind a head-scarf making it difficult to ascertain her age, though Millie would have said in her sixties.
‘No problem,’ Millie said. ‘You do cleaning round here?’
‘Yes, and I know what you’re going to ask.’ The woman gave an apologetic smile. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t have any vacancies at the moment. I clean for people elsewhere as well as on this estate.’
‘Sounds like you’re in demand,’ Millie said.
‘It’s one of those things that people never have enough time for these days, and people know I’m reliable and trustworthy. If I had a pound for everyone who’s asked me to do for them . . .’ She shook her head. ‘Everyone thinks I can just squeeze in one more, but I really can’t; not and do a proper job of it.’
‘Who do you clean for in this street?’ Millie asked.
‘Mr and Mrs Harrison at number thirty-one and Mr Coyle at number eight, and I have a few other clients on the estate, on Woodcroft Road, and Larch Crescent.’ She gestured with her head further into the estate. ‘As far as I know they have no plans to change that arrangement in the near future.’
‘So you must spend some time around here.’
‘Yes, I’m here three days.’ She was wondering where the conversation was going now.
Millie lifted her warrant card so that the woman could see. ‘I’m not actually looking for a cleaner,’ she admitted. ‘Or at least I wasn’t. We’re investigating some unwanted phone calls that the person at number nineteen is getting. It’s possible that she may be being followed too. Have you noticed anyone suspicious hanging around at all just lately?’ Millie asked. ‘Or any cars that you wouldn’t normally expect to see?’
The woman shook her head. ‘No. It’s generally very quiet here during the day. Most people are out at work. And I’d notice anyone different hanging about - they’d really stand out.’
‘It’s what I thought,’ said Millie, turning to go, ‘thanks, anyway.’
At the last minute she turned back again. ‘Out of interest, ’ she asked, ‘if you did have any vacancies, would you go out as far as Hall Green?’
The woman laughed. ‘I would, but I’m not kidding. I’m completely full at the moment, couldn’t fit another client in.’ She sighed and gave a wry smile. ‘But if you want to give me your contact details just in case -’
Millie took out a business card. ‘Thanks, and, if you should happen to think of anything, give me a call on that number anyway, will you?’
‘Yes, of course.’