Nothing but Trouble (26 page)

‘She was a ten-year-old girl who was murdered in Kellston in 1998,’ he explained. ‘A man called Donald Peck, a known sex offender,
was convicted and sent down for life. He hanged himself in prison. Sam was one of the girls who was with Minnie on the day
she was killed. As was Becky Hibbert.’

Valerie’s frown deepened. ‘So what are you saying – that Becky Hibbert’s murder is connected to this other one?’

‘I’m not saying anything of the sort. I’m just telling you the facts. It’s up to you what you do with them.’

There was a brief silence before Valerie waved her hand impatiently and said, ‘Go on. I’m presuming there’s more.’

‘Well, it was Jess Vaughan who introduced Sam to me. Jess was writing an article about Minnie Bright’s murder, and—’

At the mention of Jess’s name, Valerie’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘Very tasteful,’ she murmured.

Although it was obviously a mistake to attempt to mount any kind of defence of Jess’s motives – Valerie had always disliked
her – the words slipped out before he’d really thought them through. ‘Actually, the piece was going to be about the ongoing
effect that murder has on other people, how some learn how to cope with the trauma and others don’t.’

‘Yes,’ Valerie replied drily. ‘I’m sure there was nothing salacious about it at all. But can we get to the point, do you think?
You still haven’t explained why Becky Hibbert had your number.’

Harry told her about how Paige Fielding and Becky had agreed to be interviewed but had then changed their minds. ‘Jess thought
there was something odd about it, especially because they’d seemed so keen when she’d first approached them. She went to see
Becky again to try and find out what was going on, and by this point Sam Kendall was my client so she
left my number too in case Becky felt more comfortable talking to me.’

‘Why should she?’ Valerie asked. ‘I mean, why should Becky feel more comfortable?’

He gave a shrug, deciding that it was probably best not to mention Jess’s threat to ring Social Services. ‘Because I’m not
a journalist?’

Valerie narrowed her eyes as if this explanation was far from adequate. ‘And did she call?’

Harry nodded. ‘Yesterday morning. She sounded nervous, agitated.’ He paused, and then added, ‘No, more than that. She was
scared. She seemed scared that someone would find out that she’d talked.’

Valerie leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table. ‘What did she say to you?’

He explained what Becky had told him about Lynda Choi and the phone calls she’d made on the night she’d drowned. ‘Look, Val,
I don’t know if any of this is relevant. It may have nothing to do with Becky Hibbert’s murder. Have you talked to Paige Fielding
yet? She was a friend of Becky’s. She may be able to tell you more.’

‘Have you got a number for her, an address?’

‘Not on me, but I can text it through to you. It’s in the office. You may want to talk to Fielding’s boyfriend too. He’s a
nasty bit of work called Micky Higgs.’

‘Okay. Thanks.’ Valerie wrote down the names before glancing up at him again. ‘So, is that everything? There’s nothing else
I should know?’

‘Well, there is other one other thing. Last night someone set fire to the block of flats Jess lives in over in Hackney. We
don’t know if it was deliberate yet. I’m still waiting to hear back from Jeff Bryant.’

Valerie assumed the same expression he had seen on Mac’s
face earlier in the day, a kind of resigned acceptance that trouble and Jessica Vaughan were rarely apart for long. ‘No one
hurt, I hope.’

‘No, nothing too serious. Shall I ask Jess to give you a call?’

‘No need,’ she said. ‘I can do it myself.’

‘Not on the number you’ve got,’ he said. ‘Her phone was destroyed in the fire along with all her other stuff. I’ll ask her
to ring you when I get back to the flat, that’s if she’s awake yet.’

As if he’d just confessed to some sordid affair, Valerie’s whole body stiffened. ‘She’s at your flat?’

‘She needed somewhere to go.’

‘A hotel?’ Val suggested tightly. ‘Friends?’

‘I am a friend,’ he said, irked by her attitude. He sat back, folding his arms across his chest. ‘And it was five o’clock
in the morning. God, Val, it’s only for a few days, just until her boyfriend gets back.’

As if realising that the interview, informal as it was, had strayed out of the professional and into the personal, Valerie
sat up straight and pushed back her shoulders. Nothing, however, could disguise the look in her eyes. ‘Perhaps you could get
her to give me a call then. Today, if it isn’t too much trouble.’

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I’ll do that.’

Valerie snapped shut her notepad and rose smartly to her feet. ‘Right, if you’ve nothing else to add, I think we’re done.
I’ll see you out.’

They walked in silence back to the foyer. Harry, although his conscience was clear, searched for something to say that might
heal this new breach between them. It was not as though he had deliberately withheld the information about Jess staying at
his flat – she’d only been there since the early hours of the morning – but perhaps he should have told her straight away.

At the door, he stopped and looked at her. ‘Hey, I’m sorry if—’

But Valerie clearly wasn’t interested in his explanations. She gave a quick shake of her head. ‘I’ve got to get on,’ she said.
‘I haven’t got time for this.’ And with that she turned on her heel and left him standing there.

Valerie punched in the code, went through the glass door and headed back up the stairs. Was she behaving irrationally? She
didn’t think so. Jessica Vaughan, boyfriend or not, wasn’t to be trusted. And now the two of them were living under the same
roof. How long before this new-found friendship turned into something more?

On the first floor she stopped at the landing and gazed out of the window. She watched as Harry strolled down the road towards
his car. His damaged left leg gave him a slightly swaying gait, but the limp was barely noticeable now. It would be easier,
she thought, to just let him go, to sever the ties between them for ever. So why couldn’t she? Her head told her that was
the smart thing to do, but her heart wasn’t ready for anything so final.

With a sigh, she carried on climbing the stairs. It was time to get focused again, to concentrate on the job rather than her
personal life. Becky Hibbert deserved her full attention. She could think about everything else later.

The incident room was buzzing with talk, with the tapping of fingertips on keyboards, with the sound of phones constantly
ringing. Valerie went over to Swann and perched on the edge of his desk.

‘Any news on Dan Livesey yet?’

‘Yeah, we’ve been calling round the local clubs and eventually managed to find his employer. He’s been working for Chris Street,
sometimes at Belles, sometimes at the Lincoln.’

‘So we’ve got a home address?’

‘Not yet. Chris Street refused to give out any information over the phone, so I’ve sent Daley over to see him.’

‘Typical,’ she muttered. Chris Street, like his father Terry, was gangster through and through. The family owned a few clubs
and bars, but made most of their money from drugs and prostitution. She wasn’t surprised that he was being obstructive. Chris
Street would rather pull out his own teeth with pliers than voluntarily help the law.

‘I’ve run a check on Livesey,’ Swann said. ‘A couple of arrests for drunk and disorderly and a six-month stretch for assault
ten years ago. So we’ve got his prints and his DNA, but unless we find something to match them with …’

‘Exactly. Mind, you have to get pretty up-close and personal if you’re strangling someone. Maybe the lab will come up with
the goods.’ She shifted slightly on the desk, glanced around the room and then looked back down at Swann. Lowering her voice,
she said, ‘What do you know about the Minnie Bright murder?’

It took a moment for the name to register with him, and then his brows shot up. ‘Hannah Bright’s kid, right?’

‘You knew the mother?’

‘Everyone knew Hannah. When she wasn’t being done for soliciting, she was raising hell in some pub or other. She spent more
time in the cells than she did at home. I’m surprised that poor kid wasn’t taken into care.’ He gave a slow shake of his head.
‘Come to think of it, she’d have been a damn sight better off if she had been.’

‘What happened to her, to Hannah?’

‘Not a clue. She hasn’t been around for a while, though. I reckon she took off after the trial. I don’t imagine the locals
were entirely sympathetic; she probably got out before they drove her out.’ He paused before adding, ‘What makes you ask?’

Valerie gave him a quick rundown of what Harry had told her.

Swann listened carefully. ‘Odd. You think there’s anything in it, guv?’

‘I don’t know, but I guess we’ll have to check it out.’

‘Nasty business, that. Still, Harry knows what he’s talking about. I mean, he was one of the poor sods who went into the house
and found the body.’

Valerie tried to mask a jolt of surprise. She hadn’t been aware of that. In all the years they’d been together, Harry had
never once mentioned it. A ripple of frustration ran through her. She wondered sometimes if she knew him at all. ‘Yes, of
course.’

Swann gave her a sly look. ‘And you’ll be keeping the super informed?’

‘Redding?’ she said. ‘I don’t see much point in telling him at this stage.’ She got up to leave, but Swann hadn’t finished
yet.

‘Are you sure about that?’

She stared at him, her eyes growing cautious. ‘What are you trying to say exactly?’

‘That was his case, guv. If you start reviewing the original investigation, he’ll want to know. I don’t suppose he’ll be that
happy about it either.’

‘Damn it!’ she muttered. ‘That’s all we need.’ And damn Harry too, she thought. Something else he hadn’t bothered to tell
her.

Jess opened her eyes and blinked, confused for a moment as to where she was and what she was doing there. And then, all in
a rush, it came flooding back. She remembered the fire, the smoke pouring into the bedroom, those last few panic-filled seconds
before she’d been rescued. She recalled, with a sinking heart, how everything she’d owned was now ashes. A low groan escaped
from her lips. Before self-pity could get the better of her and send her diving back under the duvet, she forced herself out
of bed and padded across the room. She put her head round the door and peered along the hall. ‘Hello?’

There was no response.

Pulling on Harry’s dressing gown, she went through to the living room. It was empty, but sitting in the middle of the table
were a heap of carrier bags, a laptop, a mobile phone and two sets of keys. There was a white envelope with a scrawled note
from Harry on the front:
Just some things to tide you over. Your car’s outside. If you need me, I’ll be downstairs. H.
Inside the envelope was a hundred quid in twenty-pound notes.

Jess walked over to the window and looked down on the
street. Her red Mini Cooper was parked behind Harry’s silver Vauxhall. She shook her head in astonishment – how on earth had
he managed that? Returning to the table, she examined the contents of the bags and found clothes, underwear, toiletries and
even some make-up. As she stared down at everything, a lump formed in her throat. She had woken a few minutes ago imagining
she had nothing, and now she had all this. In a crisis, she thought, it was the kindness of others that made the difference
between staying afloat and drowning.

She was still gazing down at the table, her emotions in tumult, when she heard the front door quietly open and close. A few
seconds later, Harry walked into the room.

‘Hey, you’re up. Did you manage to get some sleep? How are you doing?’

‘I can’t believe you did all this,’ she said, raising her grey eyes to him. Her voice was shaky, her lower lip trembling.

Harry pulled a face. ‘You’re not going to cry, are you? I hate it when women do that. It’s only a few bits and pieces. And
I’m not responsible in any way for the shopping – that was down to Lorna.’

‘And the car?’

‘That was Snakey Harris. Granted, I made the phone call, but he was the one who did all the hard work.’ He grinned. ‘It
is
your Mini, isn’t it? I couldn’t remember the registration.’

‘Yeah, it’s mine.’

‘Thank God for that. I didn’t fancy a visit from the law.’

Jess managed a faltering smile. ‘Thanks, Harry. For everything you’ve done. I really appreciate it. I don’t know what to say.
I—’

‘You don’t need to say anything. That’s what friends are for. Look, why don’t you get dressed – hopefully you’ll find something
that fits – and I’ll make us some coffee.’

Jess gave a nod, picked up the bags and retreated to the
bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed for a minute, trying to fight back the tears. She had a horrible feeling that if she
started crying now it would be a good few days before she stopped. ‘Pull yourself together, Vaughan,’ she murmured. ‘Don’t
be such a wimp.’ Then she took three deep breaths, rose to her feet and dived into the bags.

Lorna’s choices had been conservative, for which she was grateful: plain black joggers, one loose black T-shirt and one white,
a light grey sweater, socks and a pair of black pumps. There was also a three-pack of white cotton pants and a white bra.
The bra was a size too small, but by loosening the straps she could just about manage to squeeze into it.

After getting dressed, Jess looked in the mirror. She was all in black and it suited her mood. She was still in mourning for
everything she’d lost. The clothes were fine, but the same couldn’t be said for the face that returned her gaze. It was ghostly
pale, with dark rings under the eyes. She wrinkled her nose, unimpressed with what she saw.

Turning back to the bed, she found the bag with the cosmetics and rooted through the contents. Five minutes later, after the
application of tinted moisturiser, eyeshadow, mascara and a lick of lipstick, she was beginning to look almost human again.
She ran a comb through her hair, stood back and nodded. Well, hardly perfection, but at least she wouldn’t be mistaken for
an escapee from the morgue.