The Coroner (43 page)

    'I
think you know the answer to that, Mrs Cooper.' Mary gave her a look conveying
that the interview was over. 'It's time I was getting the girls to bed.'

    Jenny
left the Marshall house with the feeling that if Harry had ever been involved
in anything illicit, Mary would have suspected it but buried her suspicions so
deep they wouldn't come out until she was senile. She was a woman determined to
see the world her way, with God at the top of the tree and everyone else
arranged in descending order of virtue according to their frugality and
sexlessness. Jenny would be way down the order, just a twig or two above the
girl she now hoped to find.

    Tara
climbed into the passenger seat smelling strongly of wine. She made a brave
attempt to pretend she was sober but stumbled over her words and held on to the
handle above the window when they went round corners. Jenny was beginning to
form a clearer picture of her: a single dyke who lived alone and put her energy
into work; there was something self- destructive about her, a sense that she
was feeding off the drama of the situation to gain the attention she wasn't
getting in a relationship. She wasn't altogether happy with her preference and
probably drank too much quite often, got in the mix down at one of the lesbian
bars in town but wasn't hot enough to score regularly, someone you'd move on
from. Too intense. Jenny felt a little sorry for her.

    They
drove into the Broadlands Estate a little before eleven- thirty. Groups of kids
hung out on corners and gathered around the benches in a run-down play area.
They were drinking, smoking cigarettes, but the atmosphere was relaxed, a lot
of laughing going on. You wouldn't want your car to break down here, but you'd
lose your wallet not five pints of blood.

    When
they had been cruising for a few minutes Tara spotted a couple of girls in
short skirts standing near the kerb at the edge of the estate. She said to slow
down as they passed. Jenny wondered what the girls would make of it, two older
women checking them out.

    'Maybe
we should ask them if they've seen Hayley,' Jenny said.

    'No.
They'd call her and warn her off.'

    Jenny
slowed a little, enough for Tara to get a look and shake her head. 'This is
where they tend to be, on the edge to catch the passing trade. There's a row of
garages behind the shops, that's where they get the punters to park up.'

    They
swung round and toured the estate a second time. Some kids stepped out in front
of them, waving their arms and pulling wild faces, trying to make them stop.
Jenny found enough room to drive around them but was anxious for a moment.
Tara, playing the streetwise reporter, said, 'They're just having fun.'

    They
passed the same two girls again and saw that they hadn't done any business.
Tara decided it was too early for Hayley to be out, so they stopped off at a
filling station and bought coffee, which they drank in the car. It was gone
midnight and Tara was heavy-lidded, stuck in a continuous loop talking about
the charges against her, claiming that not only had she been set up, her
telephones had been tapped and libellous emails about her sent to her boss at
the paper. Jenny tried to be sympathetic, but it was hard to know where fact
ended and delusion began. When Tara started into the story a fourth time she
reached out to switch on the radio, saying she fancied catching the news.

    Talking
over the radio, Tara said, 'You know there's something I haven't told you,
Jenny. . .' She smiled with the smugness of someone enjoying their superior
knowledge. 'How I know about your medical history.'

    Jenny
took a sip of her coffee, feeling her medication fading and beginning to find
Tara a little creepy.

    'Do
you want to know?'

    'Not
particularly.'

    'I
hacked them. I've got this sixteen-year-old kid, I won't give you any clues,
who I met in a chat room. Claims he can get into anything. I give him a name
and he comes up with credit history, medical records, what they've been looking
up on the internet lately, it's amazing.
And
he thinks twenty quid's a
lot of money.' She gave a wise nod. 'There's no such thing as secrets any more.
The only thing between the truth and the person who wants to find it is the
effort they're prepared to put in.'

    Jenny
said, 'What does this kid know about you?'

    Tara
paused over her cup and gave her a sideways look. 'Sounds like you're fishing.'

    'It
was just a remark.'

    'There's
not that much to know . . .' Tara let the statement hang, hoping Jenny would
probe further.

    She
didn't. The atmosphere in the car was thickening and Jenny had a bad feeling
that Tara was about to come on to her. She wasn't prejudiced, but she found the
idea of another woman having those kinds of feelings towards her uncomfortable.
Time to move off.

    Several
other cars were also driving slowly around the estate, all of them occupied by
single men. From what they could make out, there was only a handful of girls to
go around, three or four, which left the kerb crawlers in a holding pattern
waiting their turn.

    It
was close to one and Tara was almost asleep. She made a sudden snoring sound
and her chin drooped, then fell on to her chest, her head lolling. Great. She
had lost her spotter, her anxiety was creeping back and the evening had got her
nowhere. She swung the car through a U turn and headed away from the estate.

    The
police patrol car came out of nowhere. It shot from a side street, lights flashing,
and fired up its siren as it ripped down the road ahead of them.

    Tara
started awake. 'What was that?'

    The
police car jammed on its brakes and slewed into the kerb a couple of hundred
yards ahead of them, where another police vehicle had cornered an estate car.

    Jenny
said, 'Looks like someone's getting nicked.'

    She
slowed to a crawl as they drove past the scene. A fat, balding man was
remonstrating with a constable, while a female officer led a young woman in a
denim skirt towards one of their vehicles.

    Tara
said, 'That's Hayley. That's her.'

    Jenny
fetched out her phone and called Alison.

    It
was nearly two a.m. when Alison came out of the police station, tired and
irritable, and rapped the car window to say she'd talked the custody sergeant
into giving them ten minutes in the cells. Jenny had managed to persuade Tara
there was no point in her coming along and had dropped her off on the way over
from Broadlands.

    Alison
led her past the clutch of shivering smokers on the steps and through the
reception area, where several drunken women were hammering on the glass at the
counter. Alison nodded at the beleaguered duty officer, who buzzed them through
the security door into the guts of the station.

    The
cells were at basement level and the custody suite was quietening down for the
night; there were only a few sleepy drunks, slumped on a bench and handcuffed
to steel rings in the wall, waiting to be processed. The custody sergeant
tossed Alison a set of keys and said hello to Jenny, polite but not wanting to
get involved. This was strictly a favour for an ex- colleague.

    Hayley
was curled up on the cot bench holding her bare knees. A pretty girl, she still
looked fresh enough not to be automatically marked down as a prostitute. She
had long, thick black hair and olive skin. Jenny imagined she could do a lot
better than walking the streets in Broadlands. She looked up at them with
sleepy eyes, swinging to a sitting position, her skirt only reaching a third of
the way to her knees.

    'The
fuck are you?'

    Alison
said, 'I'm Mrs Trent, the coroner's officer, and this is Mrs Cooper, the
coroner.'

    Jenny
said, 'This is nothing to do with the offence for which you've been arrested
tonight, Miss Johnson, and I'm nothing to do with the police. My job is to find
out how people died. I'm investigating the death of a girl called Katy Taylor.
I think you might have known her.'

    Hayley
looked from Jenny to Alison and back again, suspecting a trick. 'Got any
cigarettes?'

    Alison
dipped into her raincoat pocket and brought out a battered packet of Marlboros.
She tapped one out and gave Hayley a light with a plastic lighter.

    Hayley
sucked in sharp and deep, getting her hit of nicotine before she'd speak.

    'I saw
her once or twice.'

    Jenny
said, 'We think she was turning tricks in Broadlands.'

    'Now
and then.'

    'The
police have got pictures of her getting into a blue Vectra - that's the last
time she was seen.'

    Hayley
shook her head. 'I don't know much about cars.'

    Jenny
said, 'I don't know if you're any good with dates, Miss Johnson, but Katy got
out of Portshead Farm on 17 April, a Tuesday, she'd been inside for six weeks.
She went missing from home on Saturday the 21st, and we know the next day she
was out on the streets again. She got into the Vectra at eleven p.m. She died,
or was killed, sometime shortly afterwards.'

    Hayley
took another long drag. 'I think I might have seen her on the Saturday night.'

    'Where?'

    'On
the street. She was meant to be on a curfew, right? She was having a laugh
about it.'

    'What
else did she talk about?'

    Hayley
pulled a face as she tried to recall. 'I think we were talking about where to
score some crack. That was her thing. I don't touch that stuff. If you're going
take something, make sure it's pure, not mixed up with any crap.'

    Alison
said, 'What about heroin?'

    'No.
What was she, fifteen? She was still playing at it.'

    Jenny
said, 'She didn't say if she was in any trouble at all, no one out to get her?'

    'Don't
think so.'

    'Did
she talk about her time in Portshead?'

    'She
might have mentioned it, about how boring it was . . .'

    'What
about a boy named Danny Wills who was in there at the same time, did she say
anything about him?'

    'You
got another cigarette?'

    Alison
handed her the packet. 'Keep them.'

    'Thanks.'
She tapped one out and lit it from the stub of her first. 'She said there was a
kid inside who'd hanged himself who'd been fighting with the screws. Something
about him saying he was going to make a knife . . .'

    'Is
that all? Try to remember, it's important.'

    'That's
all I know. I remember her saying she thought he was going to stab this screw,
but then he hanged himself. She was sad about it. They went to school together
or something.'

    Alison
said, 'Did she say who the screw was?'

    'I
can't remember . . . but I think she said she'd try to speak to someone about
it.'

    Jenny
said, 'Who? Come on, Hayley. Try.'

    Hayley
scratched her head and yawned, the effort getting to her. 'Her probation
officer?'

    'Justin.
Justin Bennett. Youth Offending Team.'

    'Yeah
. . . Maybe.'

    It
was Alison's idea to doorstep him, catch him when he was least expecting it.
They jumped from Jenny's car as he came out through the front door of his flat,
the ground floor of a scruffy terrace in Redlands.

    Jenny
said, 'Good morning, Mr Bennett. Couple of questions for you. How do you fancy
a lift to work?'

    Alison
opened the rear door of the car. Justin took a step backwards and shook his
head.

    'We
can talk out here if you prefer, or back at my office.'

    'What
do you want?'

    Alison
said, 'Mrs Cooper's doing the asking. And if I were you, I'd answer.'

    Justin
agreed on a compromise. He'd come in the car and talk but refused to be driven
anywhere. Sitting in the back seat, he was all nerves, unable to keep still.
Levelled out on her medication, Jenny noted that she felt detached from his
anxiety and wondered fleetingly if this was how policemen or jailers felt,
devoid of empathy.