A voice in my ear said, ‘Are you okay?’
I jumped. ‘You scared me.’ I looked reproachfully at Rob, trusting my expression to show my annoyance when I couldn’t raise my voice above a thread of a whisper.
‘Sorry. I was trying to be quiet.’
‘And succeeding.’ The scene in front of us was like a painting: the light and dark, the supine figure of the girl with her shadowy attendants. A Rembrandt, I thought, half-recalling something similar with a dissected body as the centrepiece that had featured in my art history textbook in school. I hadn’t liked to look at it, even then. I hadn’t known it would be my livelihood one day.
‘Creepy, isn’t it?’ Rob looked around the room much as I had done, eyeing the décor that was the last word in post-apocalyptic chic. ‘What happened to Derwent?’
‘Got the collywobbles.’ I saw his face twist into a grin and couldn’t stop myself from matching it despite the circumstances. It was just perfect that Derwent of all people had failed to keep it together. ‘He’s in the corridor, I think.’
‘Must go and ask him how forceful he’s feeling.’ He made as if to do so and I grabbed his arm.
‘For God’s sake, don’t provoke him. You warned me about that.’
‘Yeah, but I didn’t mean it should apply to me.’ The smile faded. ‘This is a turn-up, isn’t it?’
‘It’s what we were expecting. She’d been gone too long.’
‘Mm. But I don’t think she’s been lying there all that time. It’s cool enough in here but there’d be some deterioration, wouldn’t there?’
‘I couldn’t say. Hanshaw will know.’
‘Ghoul,’ Rob said.
It was what I had often thought myself, but I felt it was a little unfair. ‘He’s just doing his job.’
‘Speaking of yours, how was Skinner?’
‘Before or after he heard Cheyenne had been found?’
‘After?’
I shook my head. ‘Not good. Broken. He’d already coughed to the murders. Not that he had much choice.’
‘Did he say how he knew who to target? And what they’d done?’
‘Nothing so helpful. He told us the bare minimum. Wouldn’t implicate anyone else, no matter how the boss approached it.’
‘Well, he wouldn’t, would he? You know the rules as well as I do. Never plead guilty to conspiracy because it dumps your co-conspirators in the shit, and never point the finger at anyone else to try to save yourself.’
‘It’s a moral code of sorts.’
‘It’s a coward’s best hope of surviving prison unscathed.’
‘I don’t think John Skinner is afraid of doing time. He seems to have it all worked out.’
‘No doubt.’ Rob looked distant for a second, and grim with it. For once I could guess why.
‘Not looking forward to seeing Mrs Skinner?’
His eyebrows lifted a millimetre, which for him counted as surprise. ‘Got it in one. I can’t think it’s going to be pleasant.’
‘You won’t have to do the talking.’ We both looked at Marla Redmond who was chewing her lower lip mindlessly.
‘Right.’ Hanshaw straightened up, his gloved hands hanging from his wrists as if they didn’t quite belong to him. ‘That’s all I’m prepared to do here.’
‘Can you tell us when she died?’
‘You know better than that.’ Hanshaw never liked to hazard a guess about anything, particularly time of death. He would give an estimate once the autopsy was over, not before.
‘Any idea why her arms were tied?’
‘None. Looks to have been post-mortem. There’s no bruising and the cord was tight.’
Godley frowned. ‘Important for the display, do you think?’
‘Maybe. The body looks as if it was carefully positioned. Showing the head is interesting. The killer wasn’t trying to hide what he’d done. On the other hand, I can think of more accessible places to leave a body if you want it to be found and admired.’ Hanshaw shrugged. ‘Maybe he knew you’d be back.’
‘Or maybe he knew leaving her here would tell us nothing about where he took her.’
‘Plenty of trace evidence on the blanket and her skin,’ the pathologist said. ‘Lots to keep the forensics boys busy. You’ll get something from her.’
‘Hope so.’ Godley turned. ‘Right. I’ll get my SOCOs to do this room and a sweep of the whole warehouse so we can be sure we haven’t missed anything.’ The words
this time
hung in the air, unspoken. ‘Kev Cox will manage the crime scene. I’ll get him to liaise with your guys so they can compare notes.’
DCI Redmond nodded. ‘I was going to go up to Hoddesden to talk to Gayle Skinner.’
‘I think that’s a good idea.’
She looked wary and I understood immediately that she was afraid to encroach on Godley’s territory. This was very definitely his case now. ‘Did you want to do it?’
‘Break the news? Not on your life.’ He smiled thinly. ‘I’ve done that once today. That was enough. Anyway, she knows you.’
She nodded and made for the door, pausing beside Rob. ‘I’m going now. If you still want to come, you’re welcome to join me.’
‘Definitely.’ He waited for her to leave, then looked down at me. ‘I have to go.’
‘I’ll see you later, then.’ I said it quietly, so no one else would hear, and he responded in the same low tone.
‘Probably not tonight.’
I wondered why not but there was no way I was going to ask, and he said goodbye without further discussion.
‘Where’s Josh?’ Godley was looking around as if Derwent could have concealed himself somewhere in the desolate room.
‘He went outside. I’m not sure why.’
‘He’s not as unfeeling as he pretends to be. He has known John Skinner for a long time.’
‘They’re hardly friends,’ I pointed out.
‘Sometimes that makes it worse. He’s not used to feeling anything as benign as pity for him.’
‘Cheyenne doesn’t look much like Skinner.’
‘She’s the image of her mother.’ Godley winced. ‘I should probably have gone up to Hertfordshire with them.’
‘I’m sure DCI Redmond will do a good job.’
‘Are you?’ There was an awkward silence before he relented. ‘She’s not the worst. And I do think she’s managed Gayle well enough.’
‘Faint praise.’
‘Sorry. I can’t pretend to be impressed.’
I wasn’t going to defend her for the sake of it, but I couldn’t resist asking, ‘What would you have done differently?’
‘Honestly? Everything.’ He turned back and looked at the body. ‘But I don’t know if it would have changed the outcome.’
‘Probably best not to wonder about that.’
‘Probably. But do you think that will stop me?’
Before I had to answer, a rattle from the hallway announced the arrival of the mortuary men wheeling a trolley with a folded body bag on it. I backed away a step, fetching up against the wall. I must have been looking green.
‘You don’t have to stay for this bit. In fact, you don’t have to stay at all.’ Godley took out his phone and scrolled through the address book. ‘I’ve got somewhere more useful for you to be.’
The person he was calling picked up before I got the chance to find out more.
‘Marla, have you left yet? Good. Is there room in the car for another of my officers?’
I could hardly believe my luck.
Godley disconnected. ‘They’re waiting for you in the yard.’
‘Is there anything in particular you want me to do while I’m there?’
Because I feel as if you’re just getting rid of me
…
‘Find out what Cheyenne was really like. I don’t think her dad has the first idea – then again, fathers never do. But you were a teenage girl once. You should have some insight into her character.’
I pulled a face. ‘I haven’t been a teenager for a while, boss.’
‘Even so.’
There was no point in arguing; he had made up his mind. I followed the twisting corridor back to the yard, hurrying as best I could in the half-light of the deserted building. I emerged blinking into daylight and saw a car with its engine running at the main gate, waiting for me. I lifted a finger –
give me one second
– and hared across to where Godley had parked. Derwent was leaning against the car, on his phone. He covered it with one hand.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Hertfordshire.’ I picked up my bag from the back seat and swung it onto my shoulder. ‘Are you all right?’
The look he gave me made me wish I hadn’t bothered to ask. I didn’t hang around waiting for a big farewell. It was safe to assume he was embarrassed about his quick exit from the break room. I wondered what had happened, but I didn’t quite dare to ask. It was enough, frankly, to know that Derwent wasn’t so tough after all. It made up for a lot, one way or another.
There were four of us making the pilgrimage to break the bad news to Gayle Skinner: me, Rob, DCI Redmond, and a short, seedy detective sergeant named Ray Small. Two from the old team, two from the new. Arguably, it wouldn’t take four of us to tell her Cheyenne was dead, but Marla didn’t volunteer to leave Ray Small behind. Besides, he was driving. I felt that my presence there was unnecessary and I didn’t like it any more than I liked to think Godley had wanted me somewhere else, for reasons known only to himself, and Hertfordshire was the first place that sprang to mind. It looked almost as if I had asked to go, I was uncomfortably aware, and Rob didn’t seem completely at ease as the car nosed through the big factory gates and into the afternoon traffic.
Fortunately, perhaps, I didn’t have to make much in the way of conversation. Rob was in the front with DS Small, Marla Redmond having commandeered the back seat so she could sleep. I apologised slightly awkwardly for spoiling her plans, but she shook her head.
‘I can sleep sitting up. It’s just more comfortable back here. You can stretch out.’ She demonstrated, propping her feet up and leaning back against the headrest. Her eyelids closed almost instantly and before we had reached the main road she was fast asleep.
Either because he was wary of waking her or because he was that way inclined, Small was monosyllabic to the point of rudeness. Rob settled into silence almost immediately and I sat behind him, listening to the engine’s soothing hum and staring out of the window at North London as it slid by.
The journey didn’t take too long once we were free of the clogging traffic in the city centre. Hoddesdon was well within commuter territory and easily accessible by fast road. It was a prosperous little town, and Cheyenne had lived in one of the nicer parts, on a wide leafy road with large detached houses set well back, mostly behind security gates.
Small broke his silence. ‘We’re nearly there, boss.’
Marla Redmond straightened up, going from dead to the world to wide-awake in an instant. Leaning over to see herself in the rear-view mirror, she finger-combed her hair into something like order, and then dug in her bag for lipstick. Armour, essentially. She hadn’t needed it to face a team of hard-edged police officers, but for Gayle, it was an essential.
Small turned into the driveway that led to the Skinners’ house and leaned out to poke the intercom as if he had done it many times before. While we waited for someone to answer the bell and let us in, I leaned over to peer at the building. It was of recent construction in pale yellow brick with a giant, pillared porch and big square windows. They had gone all the way to the edge of the plot at the sides, using every inch of space to loom over the more modest houses on either side. The front garden had been paved over, the better to display the family’s collection of cars. A silver Range Rover was parked on one side of the front door alongside a black Audi TT, and the boot of a Porsche 911 poked out behind it. When the gate swung open, Small drove forward and stopped behind a top-of-the-range Mercedes, blocking it in.
‘That’s not one of Gayle’s cars.’ DCI Redmond was also leaning forward so she could see. ‘I don’t recognise it.’
‘It’s probably the cleaner’s.’ Small had made an actual joke, I realised with some surprise. He shrugged. ‘Around here, anything’s possible.’
‘Right.’ The inspector was back in take-charge mode. ‘Obviously, I’ll do the talking. If either of you two want to ask any questions, feel free, but I’d appreciate it if you’d wait until we’ve given Gayle a little time to get used to the news.’
‘We won’t rush her,’ Rob promised. I wasn’t going to make a fuss about him speaking for me, but I hoped he wasn’t going to make a habit of it. I got enough of that from Derwent.
‘Gayle’s not the easiest person to deal with.’ Marla Redmond hesitated, then decided against trying to explain what she meant. ‘You’ll see what I mean, I suppose.’
The front door had opened and a thin middle-aged woman with iron-grey hair was peering out.
‘We’ve been spotted.’
Small looked in the same direction as me. ‘Oh, that’s Lydia. She’s the housekeeper. Don’t ask me why Gayle needs staff. She’s not exactly pushed for time.’
‘Status,’ DCI Redmond said briefly. ‘She wants what the neighbours have got. If she can’t fit in, she can at least keep up with them. Mind you, Lydia’s been around for years. I got the impression from talking to her that she pretty much did all the hard work with the girl. Gayle’s not much of a one for discipline or domestic chores.’ She opened her door and got out, giving the housekeeper a brief wave. ‘Back again,’ she said unnecessarily.
‘Any news?’ The woman’s voice cracked, as if she hadn’t spoken for a while.
Instead of replying, DCI Redmond walked quickly across the neat brick pavers towards her. I let Small follow her before Rob and I took up the rear. The sergeant was wearing a tweed sports coat and black slacks, neither of which looked the better for the car journey, and he had a strange, scuttling walk that took him on an indirect route to the front door. I realised he was checking out the Merc as he slid past it.
Having reached the shelter of the porch, DCI Redmond spoke in a low voice so it wouldn’t carry into the house. ‘Lydia, there is some news, but it’s not good. Where’s Gayle?’
‘In the sunroom.’ The housekeeper made the sign of the cross, her lips moving silently as she did so. Her face was sheet-white.
‘Does she have anyone with her? A friend?’
‘She has someone. A visitor.’ Lydia looked vague. ‘I think he’s Mr Skinner’s friend.’
Marla Redmond was too well trained to react in any obvious way, but I could feel curiosity vibrating in the air around her as she stepped into the hall, the two of us following behind her and Small. The hall was square and tiled in cream marble. The doors were pale oak like the staircase that wound up to the first floor with a wholly unnecessary flourish. There were no pictures on the cream-painted walls, but a bronze sculpture of a leaping deer had pride of place on the table in the middle. ‘We’ll just go through and see them, then. Thank you, Lydia.’