Authors: Jane Casey
‘Something to do with the kids,’ Derwent said wisely. ‘That would do it.’
‘Which makes me think we should be focusing on the twins.’ I frowned. ‘There’s something there, you know. Something we haven’t worked out. Laura was the favourite and Lydia was born to be a victim, but Laura died and Lydia was unharmed. I wish I had a better
relationship
with Lydia or her aunt. It would really help if I could talk to her again and gain her trust.’
‘What do we know about Laura? What do we suspect?’
‘We suspect we don’t have a clue about her. Her friends haven’t been a huge help. You were there for the Millie Carberry interview and none of the rest of them have been any better.’
‘Who’s been doing the rest of the interviews?’
‘Liv’s been running through the list Lydia gave us. A lot of them are away on holidays so it’s taken a while to track them down. No one knew anything, or no one would admit to knowing anything.’
‘So Laura lied?’
‘It doesn’t help us. We knew she was lying about having a boyfriend already. All we know is that she was supposed to be out, she’d set herself up with a reason to be out, and she ended up staying in and getting killed. We still don’t have her phone, or any idea who the boyfriend was.’
‘Okay. Well, that gives us something to look at. We’d better talk to Lydia again. I’ll come along this time. See if that makes a difference.’
My heart sank. ‘Please don’t try to terrify her into talking. She’s vulnerable, you know.’
‘I can be sensitive.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘This is a talent you keep well hidden.’
‘I have a fatherly manner. Teenagers find it reassuring.’
‘Firstly, you’re what – thirty-five?’
‘Thirty-six.’
‘Less of the pipe-and-slippers thing, then. You’re barely old enough to be her father.’
‘I got started early.’
I let that one go. ‘Secondly, you’ve never reassured anyone in your life. You depend on making people so uncomfortable they’ll tell you anything just to get rid of you. Thirdly––’
Before I could go on, my phone rang in my pocket and I dug it out, noting automatically that the call was coming from a withheld number.
‘Hello?’
‘DC Kerrigan? This is Savannah Wentworth.’ Her voice was soft but clear. ‘I believe you want to talk to me.’
I concentrated on making the arrangements for her to come in and speak to us later on that afternoon, but I couldn’t help smiling at the expression on Derwent’s face when he realised who I was speaking to. Christmas morning had nothing on it.
Chapter Fifteen
DUE TO THAT
weird osmosis of information that seems to be common to all police stations everywhere, by the time Savannah Wentworth set foot in the place everyone in the building knew who she was visiting, and why. There had been time on the way back for Derwent to get his hair cut. I thought he’d looked better before – the short version made it hard to miss how much his ears stuck out – but I wasn’t going to interfere. Meeting Savannah was the only thing that had cheered him up for absolutely ages, and a happy Derwent was an altogether nicer one. Personally, I wasn’t gripped by the hysteria that seemed to be fairly universal. I didn’t really see any reason to be awed by the prospect of meeting someone whose main claim to fame was looking good in designer clothes – or out of them. Still, I couldn’t help enjoying the buzz. Derwent and I practically got a standing ovation when we walked into the team’s room.
‘Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.’ Liv ran over to my desk and started to jump up and down on the spot. ‘Do you realise she is just my ideal woman? I mean, I have wanted to see her in person
for ever
. She can’t possibly be that good-looking in real life, can she? Or maybe she can. Oh my God. What do you think she’ll be wearing?’
‘Clothes.’ I was going through my in-tray. ‘Do you think you could get a grip, Liv? It’s just that you’re being insane.’
‘Oh, come on. You have to admit we don’t usually get anyone remotely glamorous here. This is
exciting
.’
‘It’s
routine
. She’s helping with a murder enquiry. And not willingly, if it comes to that.’
‘I’m sure she has better things to do than come down to this hole in the ground. Do you need anyone to take notes?’
‘I think we can manage.’
‘Maeve.’ Godley was standing in the doorway of his office. ‘A word.’
I made my way across to him, feeling that frisson of tension that comes from not knowing if you’re in trouble or not.
‘To what do we owe the pleasure of this three-ring circus?’
‘Savannah Wentworth is Philip Kennford’s daughter by his first wife. He managed not to mention that to us but I found out from one of his colleagues. She was in town for a meeting so I arranged for her to come in and speak to us.’
‘Do you seriously think she might be involved in her half-sister’s death?’ Godley sounded scathing.
‘I don’t know, sir.’
‘It doesn’t seem likely, does it?’
‘Again, I won’t know until I’ve spoken to her.’ I had the feeling I was standing on a very small piece of rock in high seas, and every wave washed away another piece of it.
‘I don’t like drawing attention to the team like this.’ He went to the window and looked out. ‘Do you know there are photographers across the road?’
‘Someone must have tipped them off. Maybe she did it herself.’
‘I doubt that.’ He sighed. ‘There must have been a more discreet way to have this conversation.’
‘Meeting here was Savannah’s suggestion, sir. She lives in rural Sussex when she’s in the UK, so it seemed to make more sense to see her here, given that she was happy for us to speak to her in central London.’
‘Get her out of here quickly, Maeve. We’re getting
enough
attention from the media as it stands because of these shootings. I would rather not make the front page of every tabloid in the country because Savannah Wentworth happens to be related to some murder victims.’
‘I have no interest in spinning it out, sir.’
A knock on Godley’s door from Derwent, who looked to be fizzing with excitement. ‘Kerrigan, she’s here.’
There was no need to ask who he meant. I left him to get his own pep talk from Godley, hoping that he might have calmed down a bit by the time he made it into the interview room I’d booked. It was on the ground floor and windowless – not quite what Savannah Wentworth was used to, probably, but she would have to cope with it. I stomped down the stairs, feeling prickly with irritation. Godley was picking on me. There was no reason to tell me off for arranging a routine interview in a routine way. I was pretty sure it had to do with putting me in my place for asking about Derwent’s exclusion from the other investigation. It was even more of an insult that Derwent himself hadn’t been remotely grateful. I came into the reception area in a bad mood and found it to be unusually crowded. It took me a second but I spotted a very tall, very slim dark-haired woman with her back to me, standing up by the seats.
‘Savannah Wentworth?’
She turned and smiled. ‘No. I’m Zoe Prowse.’ She was mixed race and exceedingly pretty, with pale-brown skin and striking light-blue eyes. She had a scattering of freckles across her nose, which was pierced, and white, even teeth. She also had a row of hoops the length of one ear, and her hair was shaved in horizontal bands on that side.
‘I’m Savannah.’ I hadn’t noticed her at first because Zoe had been doing a good job of blocking her from view, I realised. I wasn’t the only person in the lobby who was looking for her, even if I was the only one who had a good
reason
to want to identify her. She stood up, and up, and up, so that I felt like a midget. I was used to being taller than most women – and men, for that matter – but Savannah and her companion had inches on me. Both of them were dressed casually in jeans and flat sandals, but on Savannah the outfit looked as if it had come straight from the pages of a magazine. She was far more conventional in her style than Zoe – one piercing in each ear, impeccably groomed hair – but I couldn’t stop staring at her because in person she was flawless, with that angular beauty that’s somehow otherworldly. She was exceedingly slender, her skin stretched over cheekbones that were razor-sharp, but it suited her. She wasn’t wearing any make-up at all and her skin was perfect, her colouring delicate. She did resemble her father but there was some genetic quirk that had refined his features to make them outstandingly beautiful in her. I thought it would probably be impossible to take a bad picture of her, which was presumably why she was such a star.
Reminding myself why I was there, I stopped gawping and introduced myself, aware that everyone in the lobby was trying their hardest to eavesdrop. I had been expecting a diva but what I got was a serious young woman who seemed a little anxious, fiddling with the cuffs of her long-sleeved top.
‘I’m sorry this took a little while to set up. I know it’s really important. I’ve been really busy for the past few days.’
‘It’s just a chat,’ I found myself saying, wanting to reassure her. ‘No need to worry.’
‘Is it okay for Zoe to come in with me? I think she would be really helpful.’
‘I’m sure that would be fine.’ If she needed her assistant to remind her of dates and times, that didn’t surprise me. The celebrity lifestyle had to be a confusing one. I led the way to the interview room, noting as soon as I opened the
door
that it stank of aftershave. It didn’t take a super-sleuth to trace it to its source, which was a nervous DI Derwent, rubbing his right hand on his trousers to dry it before extending it to Savannah.
‘Miss Wentworth. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ He pumped her hand enthusiastically as she murmured something that might have been ‘thank you’ and sank into one of the stained plastic chairs. Zoe sat down in the corner behind her, unnoticed. She was probably used to being ignored when in Savannah’s company.
‘Thank you for coming in to see us today.’ Derwent was still laying on the charm for all he was worth.
‘I thought it was best to get it over with when I was free this afternoon. I’m hard to get hold of. I travel a lot.’
‘Part of your job, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. Not my favourite bit, actually.’ She crossed one long leg over the other, swinging her foot. ‘It has its moments, though. I’ve just come back from South Africa. Beautiful place.’
‘When did you get back?’
‘Last Saturday.’ She looked over her shoulder to Zoe, who nodded agreement. ‘I did an editorial shoot for a new magazine on Monday, all day. Since then, lots of meetings and a bit of downtime. It was good that I wasn’t supposed to be travelling, given what happened to Vita and Laura. You’d never have tracked me down.’
‘When did you find out about it?’ Derwent asked.
‘My mother rang me on Monday as soon as she heard about it.’ Savannah bit her lip, looking frail and anguished. I recalled that a lot of modelling was basically playing a part, and wondered how deeply she really felt about them. ‘It was such a shock. I mean, I didn’t know Laura very well, but I’d seen her and her sister grow up, off and on. And Vita – she wasn’t my favourite person in the world, but I wouldn’t have wished her harm.’
‘When did you last see them?’
‘A couple of years ago, maybe? I’m not totally sure.’
‘From what I understand, she was the reason you fell out with your father,’ I said. Derwent being reverent was amusing up to a point, but we couldn’t let Savannah walk out without finding out more about her relationship with Kennford’s second family, even if it made her angry.
Anger, however, did not seem to be the dominant emotion. Savannah’s expression changed from one second to the next, the sorrow replaced by mocking amusement. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Gossip,’ I admitted.
‘Well, your source was a bit off on that one. I mean, I’m sure she wasn’t weeping into her pillow about it, but I don’t think she was particularly bothered about the real reason Dad didn’t want to talk to me any more. I thought it was all coming from him, from the way he reacted.’
‘What was the reason, then?’ Derwent demanded.
‘I don’t want it to go outside this room.’
‘You have my word.’ It certainly sounded as if he meant it, and at the time he probably did. He would have promised a lot to get the inside story on Philip Kennford.
Savannah looked again at Zoe, turning around in her seat to do so. Zoe nodded, her expression neutral.
‘Dad found it impossible to accept that I prefer women to men.’
‘As in …’
‘As in I sleep with women. I am a lesbian. A dyke.’ Savannah’s voice had risen and Zoe leaned forward in her chair to put a hand on her shoulder. The model covered it with her own hand for a second, then released it. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t shout.’
‘I didn’t know that.’ I could almost have felt sorry for Derwent, whose face seemed to have frozen in an awkward half-smile. Since he didn’t seem to be capable of speech, I went on. ‘That’s a well-kept secret, isn’t it?’
‘It’s no one else’s business.’ Savannah spoke tartly and
I
saw her father’s personality in her for the first time.