No Hiding Place: An edge of your seat mystery/thriller. (DI Sally Parker thrillers Book 2) (6 page)

“It was, but I managed it. I
couldn’t have done it without having the best neighbours around for
support, though.”

“Mark mentioned that you had to
work two jobs, which meant that you saw very little of Gemma.”

Heather’s head tilted to the
side. “Is this your way of telling me that I’m on your suspect
list, too, Inspector?”

Sally shook her head
vigorously. “Not in the slightest. I asked Mark what sort of
character Gemma was, and he gave me a rundown attached to a
statement, ‘considering what her childhood had been like.’ I’m sure
he never intended it in a derogatory way, Heather.”

“The trouble was I had to work
my arse off because her father contributed very little to her
upbringing, a pittance really. I took him to court one year. The
judge looked down at him and called him ‘a sorry excuse of a human
being’ and raised my maintenance money. Actually, he
doubled
it. I walked out of the courtroom with my solicitor to find my ex
waiting on the other side of the road with his new young wife,
stripping off and shouting, ‘Here, you might as well take the shirt
off my back, too.’ The solicitor whisked me away and bought me a
coffee. My hands were shaking so much, I spilt most of it.”

“What a terrible experience for
you.”

“He’s a terrible man,
Inspector. The world revolves around him and his infantile
universe, I’m afraid, and woe betide anyone who doesn’t conform to
his way of thinking.”

“He sounds a real sweetheart.
Going back to the incident with Samantha, can you tell me what the
outcome was?”

“Gemma said that she believed
her father, but deep down, I don’t think she really did. She said
it would be better for him to leave and ring when he wanted to
visit them again.”

“Do you know what Mark said
about it?”

“I don’t think she ever told
him.”

“That’s a bit awkward. Any idea
why she would keep that kind of information from the father of her
child?”

“Speaking as a mother, it’s
what we do sometimes.”

“Really?” Out of the corner of
her eye, Sally noticed Jack’s head rose to look at the woman.
“Would you appreciate that kind of info being held back as a
father, Jack?”

“No, I would not.”

Heather shrugged. “To each
their own. The marriage was in trouble. I guess Gemma was more
cautious about giving her husband information that could be used
against her if they split up.”

“I can understand that logic.
Was there a danger of Gemma and Mark going their separate
ways?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I was
there only as a shoulder to cry on at the end of the day,
Inspector. Maybe Gemma confided in her friends more about that than
in me.”

“We’ll see what they have to
say about that then.”

“You do that. Going back to the
incident with my granddaughter, I wouldn’t put it past Ray to have
threatened Samantha.”

“What? Threaten a
five-year-old? How?”

“You know, ‘Keep this a secret
between us, or I’ll tell Mummy you did this.’ He used to do it all
the time when we were all together.”

“That’s appalling. I’m not
surprised you kicked him out if that was his game.”

“Yeah, he’s a real peach. Take
my word on that.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting
him. Okay, I think you’ve drawn a clear enough picture about
Gemma’s dad to be going on with. You mentioned Mark’s brother—care
to enlighten me about what kind of relationship he had with
Gemma?”

“Are you insinuating that
something might have been going on between them, Inspector?”

“No, not in the slightest.
Sorry if it came across that way. I was simply asking why they had
a falling out. That is what you suggested earlier, wasn’t it?”
Sally asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Yes. His name is Colin
Whiting. He’s a baker. Just lately, I’ve picked up a bad vibe
between them when they were in the same room together. I have no
idea what was going on. I tried to get it out of Gemma, but she
clammed up. Told me to leave well alone.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound too
good. And there’s no way that they’d ever have a relationship?”

“No, she would have been crazy
if she had. He seems very needy to me. Not the type you’d want to
encourage to be friends at all.”

“Did he visit the family home
much? Gemma’s home, I mean?”

“Not that often. He used to
visit up until recently. That’s when I noticed a frosty atmosphere
between him and Gemma.”

“When did you notice this chill
develop exactly?”

Heather contemplated her answer
for a few seconds as she lit up another cigarette and swept the
back of her hand across her cheeks, wiping away fresh tears. She
exhaled a large puff of smoke then said, “Well, we all—the family,
that is—turned up for a barbecue back in August. Gemma was in the
kitchen, preparing the coleslaw. I walked in to get the cutlery and
found them deep in conversation. He had his hand on her arm,
gripping it, and his face was close to hers. She seemed scared of
him. Neither of them appeared to notice my arrival, and I coughed
to get their attention. He let go of her arm swiftly and left the
room. I asked Gemma what was going on. Her cheeks coloured up, and
she told me everything was all right and that I should forget about
it.”

“Interesting. Did she ever
confide in you what the incident was concerning?”

“No. I tried several times to
raise the subject, but she refused to tell me what it was about. I
hate secrets, Inspector. My advice would be to dig very deep there,
too.”

“I intend to, I assure you. Is
there anything else you think we should know about regarding the
family, Heather?”

Her eyes widened. “I think
that’s enough for you to be going on with. Isn’t it,
Inspector?”

Sally and Jack stood and
followed Heather into the hallway. At the front door, Sally
replied, “Yes, you’ve been very kind talking to us today,
considering the sad news I’ve given you.”

“When can I see her?”

Sally placed her hand on the
woman’s forearm. “I’ll have a word with the pathologist to see if
we can arrange that soon. Take care, Heather. We’ll do everything
we can to bring your daughter’s murderer to justice. You have my
word on that.”

She sniffed and wiped away
another tear. “Thank you, Inspector. Please keep me informed.”

“We will. I’d suggest you have
little or no contact with Mark or his family in the meantime. I
know that’s going to be difficult, and you’ll need to restrain
yourself after the information you’ve divulged today, but please,
let us handle them.”

Heather nodded and closed the
front door behind them.

“Oh, what tangled webs,” Jack
said once they were back in the car.

“Yes, indeed. Strange that
Gemma didn’t tell her mother about having her father in a
stranglehold, eh?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.
It’s all very strange.”

“I don’t need to look into my
crystal ball to know that we’re about to untangle a lot of secrets;
maybe secrets that some of these folks would rather have gone to
the grave with the victim. Let’s see what Raymond Lord has to say
for himself, shall we?”

While Sally drove the
twenty-odd miles to the address Heather had given them for Raymond
Lord, Jack rang Joanna to see what she had garnered from the
background checks.

“Thanks, Joanna. We’ll be back
after we’ve visited Gemma’s father.” Jack hung up and tapped his
notebook.

“What did she find out?” Sally
asked, turning into Forster Road, where Lord’s flat was
situated.

“He’s been in trouble with us
over the years.”

“Has he now? Come on, Jack, out
with it.”

“Mostly petty crimes. A few
shoplifting charges, nothing major. But there is an assault charge
in there, too.”

“On whom?”

“A teenager—he was in his teens
as well.”

“You say that as though that’s
an acceptable excuse for his actions, partner.”

Jack shrugged as she parked the
car outside a rundown house, which had a sheet of plywood covering
the downstairs window. “Kids will be kids, I suppose is what I’m
saying. I certainly wouldn’t condone what he did. I met my fair
share of smart mouths in the army. We soon knocked the ‘Big I am’
attitude out of them, I can tell you. Oops, I shouldn’t have told
you that.”

Sally sniggered. “I always
thought you were a bit of a thug.”

Jack opened his mouth to
object, and Sally punched him in the leg. “Come on; we’ll leave
this discussion for another time. Let’s see what we make of Raymond
Lord for now.”

“By the looks of this place,
maybe we should go in there wearing rubber gloves,” Jack grumbled
as they walked up the cracked concrete path, dodging the stinging
nettles off to their left that dominated the front garden.

“I take it Lord lacks any
gardening talent. A bit like you in that respect,” Sally
teased.

“Cheeky mare. I’ll have you
know I have many talents in that department, although they do tend
to focus on the massive gas barbecue we treated ourselves to at the
end of last year.”

“That figures. Right, straight
faces now.” Sally rang the doorbell, wiped her hand on her black
suit trousers, and pulled a disgusted face at her partner.

The door was eventually opened
by a tall, skinny man in his late fifties or early sixties. He
squinted against the daylight. “Yeah?”

“Mr. Lord?”

“That’s right, and you are?”
The door closed a little as if he intended to slam it in their
faces if he didn’t care for their response.

Sally and Jack showed the man
their IDs while Jack snuck his foot into the gap just in case. “DI
Sally Parker and DS Jack Blackman of the Norfolk Constabulary. Is
it possible for us to speak to you privately for a moment, sir?”
Sally asked.

“About what?” he asked
menacingly, inching the door their way again.

“Concerning your daughter,
Gemma.”

The door opened again, and the
man stood back to let them in. “The place is a tip.”

“That’s okay. We’re not here to
judge your domestic skills.”

“Good job, ’cause I haven’t got
any. This way.”

He showed them upstairs to a
second-floor flat that looked as though it hadn’t been touched by
either a duster or vacuum in months. Sally’s nostrils flared as
they filled with the smell emanating from the pile of takeaway
cartons in the corner of the room and a more recent one, floating
with grease, sitting on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

“Take a seat, if you want to
risk it.”

“We’ll stand if it’s all the
same to you.”

Lord shrugged and flopped into
the sofa. A cloud of dust burst from the cushions and surrounded
him like a mist. He coughed and waved the dust away from his
face.

Shit! The quicker we get out of
this shithole, the better.

“So, what’s my darling daughter
been up to then? She’s not the type to get in trouble with you
lot.”

Sally exhaled a large breath.
“It is with regret that I have to tell you that your daughter died
in the early hours of this morning.”

Lord bolted upright on the
sofa. “What? Is this some kind of joke?”

“No. I’m very serious about
this, Mr. Lord. I also have to tell you that your daughter’s death
is being treated as a murder enquiry.”

He reached for a can of lager
sitting on the table and downed the contents before he spoke. “Who
did it?”

“It’s our intention to find
that out, Mr. Lord. Do you have any suggestions?”

“What the fuck? Why would I
have a clue about that?”

He stared long and hard at
Sally, and she responded with a challenging stare of her own.
“Maybe you have an inclination. When was the last time you saw your
daughter?”

“I don’t know.”

Sally noted that he was
avoiding eye contact with her after his initial glaring session.
“Try to think. It could be vital to the investigation, Mr.
Lord.”

He looked up. “Why? What are
you insinuating? That I killed her? You are, aren’t you?” He ran an
agitated hand through his thinning, steel-grey hair.

“No. We’ll be questioning all
family members and friends alike. It’s what we do during an
investigation. Now please, answer the question.”

“I honestly can’t remember. I
suppose it was around four to five months ago.”

“And you’ve not had any contact
since? Via the phone, I mean.”

“No.”

“Can I ask why not?” Sally
wanted to see if he would admit the real reason he’d fallen out
with his daughter.

“Time flies when you’re having
fun,” he replied sarcastically.

“It must do when you have a
full-time job. What do you do for a living, Mr. Lord?”

His jaw moved from side to side
as though her question made him grind his teeth for some
reason.

“Why the hesitation, Mr. Lord?”
Jack prompted. “Tell the inspector.”

“Nothing. I’ve tried to find a
job, but no one will employ me.”

“So you spend your days here?”
Sally asked.

“Yeah, is that a crime?” he bit
back.

“No, of course not. In that
case, you really don’t have an excuse why this place shouldn’t be
kept tidy, do you?” Sally asked, surveying the filthy lounge.

“Fuck off! That’s a woman’s
job, not a man’s.”

Jack took a step forward and
bent down to look the offensive man in the eye. “Show the inspector
some respect, all right?”

“Whatever. Tell her to stop
issuing dumb statements then.”

Jack stepped back to stand
beside Sally. “I apologise. I shouldn’t have questioned your
abilities in that department. Are you married, Mr. Lord?”

“There you go again, asking
dumb questions. Do you think this place would look like this if I
was married?”

“I doubt it. We were informed
that you had remarried.”