The Elephant Girl (Choc Lit) (31 page)

Wilcox sighed. ‘If those men were there, why didn’t Fay Cooper mention them? She was facing a murder charge.’

‘She was high, she could’ve forgotten. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?’

He regarded her thoughtfully. She stared back without saying anything, gave him time to process what she’d just said in the hope he would agree it was worth following up on. The only sound in the room was her own breathing which came in short bursts from her excitement at being this close.

Then he frowned and crossed his arms. ‘Are
you
under the influence of any kind of substance?’

‘No!’ The sudden rage at having her hopes dashed made her clench her fists, and she saw from his smug smile that he’d noticed. Immediately she put a lid on it. Blowing her top at one of Scotland Yard’s finest would get her nowhere. ‘I don’t drink. It interferes with epilepsy medication. That’s a well-known fact. Weed can help, but I’m not doing that either.’ Not any more, but he didn’t have to know.

‘I wasn’t aware of that, but I’m learning all the time.’

He flashed her the smile she remembered from that day at the police station twenty years ago. It was a smile that said ‘I know something you don’t’. Her five-year-old gut instinct didn’t trust it back then, and she didn’t trust it now either. What did he know this time that she didn’t? Had he and the DI discussed her before she came?

She could almost hear them. ‘An interesting case … a child witness, unreliable … making up stories in her head … can’t come to terms with what happened … an epileptic, you know … blah blah blah’. She imagined them laughing at her, and bit down hard on the inside of her mouth.

‘There’s something else. My mother …’ Helen stopped. What could she say? She had no proof that something was going on with the company back then, only what Bill had said which wasn’t much. No proof of Moody’s involvement either. ‘I think my mother might’ve been involved in something which got her killed,’ she said instead. ‘She had a bag with her when she died. With papers and computer discs in it. I’ve mentioned that before as well.’

Wilcox sent her an exasperated smile. ‘You’ve mentioned the bag, yes. You never said anything about any papers or computer discs. And I’ve tried to tell you, there was no bag.’

‘What sort of papers?’ asked Whitehouse.

‘Just papers. I remember finding them boring.’

‘“Just papers”,’ the detective repeated. ‘Can you be more specific? Business documents, leaflets? Closely typed or with lots of pictures?’

‘The company’s logo was on them, but that’s all I know. I was only five.’

‘What company?’

‘The family company that my mother worked for. Ransome & Daughters.’

Assessing her, Whitehouse said, ‘Why would papers from your mother’s own company make you draw the conclusion that she was involved in anything? It seems, well, tenuous.’

Helen hesitated. ‘In the world of auctioneering …’ she began, then stopped. She felt a certain loyalty to the company, which was unexpected. ‘Well, let me put it this way, not everyone who trades through an auction house has a clear conscience. Sometimes art and antiques are sold without a provenance. There’s usually a good reason for that, like if it’s been in your Auntie Edna’s attic for fifty years, or else it …’ she shrugged.

‘Could be stolen.’ Whitehouse finished the sentence for her.

Helen nodded and realised, stupidly, this was like preaching to the converted. Wilcox and Whitehouse were police officers and knew more about the shady side of business than she did. ‘I think my mother was a whistle-blower.’

‘I see.’ Whitehouse nodded slowly.

Wilcox shook his head. ‘Impressive.’

‘What?’

‘Impressive what the human mind can conjure up when it’s desperate.’

Helen’s rage returned, white-hot and corrosive. ‘I want you to reopen the case of my mother’s murder.’

‘Look,’ said Wilcox, ‘I’ve got terrorists roaming the streets of London. Now, I appreciate this is very real for you, but I can’t justify reopening a case on the grounds of practically nothing. It requires manpower and resources, and most of all, proof that Fay Cooper didn’t kill your mother. If you can provide me with that, I’ll reconsider.’ The latter he added in an undertone which told her he didn’t believe she’d be able to provide any.

And he’d be right. What did she have? Some vague memory of a cyclist and a man with a dog? There were the files on Letitia’s computer, but they proved only a current sideline. What she did have was the uncertainty of a recovered drug addict, a couple of missing knives plus a missing bag and, above all, her own overwhelming sense of loss.

She rose. Wilcox was a busy man with a career to pursue and other people like herself to fob off. He could do nothing more for her. She understood that, but she still hated him for forcing her to face the fact that her mother was long gone. Mimi was dead, and the gap left behind was closing up like a scab over a cut. Scratching it would only make things worse.

To her surprise Whitehouse caught up with her in Back Hall reception.

‘Here, take my card,’ she said, and held out a pristine-looking business card as perfect as her manicured fingernails. ‘If you do find anything, no matter how insignificant you think it is, give me a call, and we’ll chat about it. I can’t promise anything, but it’ll help me get a clearer picture of what happened. In the meantime, I’ll read up on the case.’

‘Why are you being so nice to me?’

‘You sound like that doesn’t happen very often.’

‘It doesn’t.’ Except Jason, who’d been unfailingly nice, even when she’d lied to him.

Cool blue eyes sought Helen’s for a moment. ‘Maybe I understand how you feel.’

‘How can you?’

‘I lost my own mother when I was young. A hit-and-run. They never got the guy. Believe me, I know how it eats away at you.’

‘Do
you
think I’m making it all up? That “my mind is conjuring up images because it’s desperate”?’

Whitehouse pressed the card in her hand. ‘Here’s what I think. I think you’re confused, you’ve never really dealt with your mother’s death, and you were an unreliable witness. But, no, I don’t think you’re making it up.’

Helen left with a feeling that it hadn’t been a complete waste. DI Whitehouse was going to read up on the case. She may well come to the same conclusion, that she hadn’t enough to go on for the case to be reopened, but it gave her an element of hope.

Also, without meaning to, Wilcox had given her an idea. If he wasn’t prepared to try and find the old witnesses, she would find them herself.

Jason was having a quiet day at the market when his mobile rang.

It was Trevor. ‘Any chance you could come by the house this afternoon? There’s something I need to talk to you about.’

‘I can come now. I’ll close up for the day. Unless you want to tell me over the phone.’

‘Face to face is best,’ said his uncle, and hung up.

Trevor opened the door before Jason had a chance to knock. ‘I’m off to the park with Jessie. Walk with me.’

The Rottweiler was sitting by his feet, lead in mouth, wagging her tail. Trevor clipped it on and locked the door behind him.

‘Someone’s excited,’ said Jason as Jessie pulled them along the pavement, muscles rippling.

‘Best thing she knows. Some dogs love food, others just want to laze on the sofa all day. For Jessie it’s walkies. Here, girl, look what I’ve got.’

Trevor pulled a rubber ball out of his pocket, and Jessie whined and bounced up to grab it off him with what Jason could only describe as a big grin on her face. One day he’d like to have a dog like Jessie. That, and a houseful of kids. Then he remembered why he was here.

‘What did you want to—’

‘Not here,’ said Trevor.

At the park Trevor unclipped the lead and gave Jason the rubber ball to toss. Jessie ran after it, brought it down like it was prey, then trotted back, but ran off again as soon as Jason reached for it.

‘So that’s how you wanna play.’

Jessie growled in reply and moved out of his reach when he tried to take the ball again.

‘Oh, she’ll have hours of fun doing that. Never tires of it. Let’s indulge her.’ Trevor took a step towards the dog who kept running off and coming back, always keeping the ball just out of reach as they moved along the path. Finally she placed it at Jason’s feet and allowed him to toss it again.

‘I wanted to talk to you about my time with your dad,’ said Trevor. ‘Something I’ve never told a living soul, not even Lucy. You know I started out as his chauffeur. A few years after, I moved on to personal security, although I still did a bit of driving. There wasn’t a job description as such.’

‘Like Jones?’

‘Yeah, a bit like Jones.’ Trevor’s lip curled, either from humour or distaste. ‘You’d be surprised how much of a commitment it is to keep a man like your father safe. You’ve gotta have an eye on every finger 24/7 and be ready to act if you see any threats. No good hesitating. Like being on presidential detail, I suppose.’

‘Did you ever have to, er, get rid of any threats?’

‘Might’ve hospitalised one or two. Never had an official complaint, though.’ He grinned. ‘Of course, Lucy put a stop to that when we met. Wanted me on the straight and narrow, or I’d be out on me ear, thank you very much. Her exact words.’

‘Sounds like her,’ said Jason. It shook him a little, hearing Trevor refer to the job of guarding his father as nothing more than an ordinary day at the office. Despite his efforts he’d never quite succeeded in making himself immune to what his father did for a living. ‘Did it involve guns? Knives?’

‘Sonny, this is your father we’re talking about. He’s as legit as they come in his line of business. Just don’t make the mistake of taking legit for softness. There are many ways a person can be persuaded, know wha’ I mean.’

‘I can guess,’ said Jason drily.

‘So twenty years ago, give or take, I was driving your old man around. This was a job with very anti-social hours. Late into the night, early morning sometimes. Including one morning, at Ealing Common.’

Jason swung around, and blood rushed to his head with a
whoosh
. ‘What?’

‘Sorry, I didn’t click, not until you asked me to look into the Mimi Stephanov thing. Then I remembered more than I wanted to. Never told a living soul, and I wasn’t planning on telling you either. Not until Lucy … well it was something she said last night. Something to do with the length of Derek’s involvement in that company. I knew he met with someone that day.’

‘Who?’

‘I didn’t see.’ Trevor shook his head. ‘I was told to stay in the car. I didn’t like it and said so. He told me he didn’t pay me to have an opinion. So I stayed put. Later I heard a woman was stabbed, but your dad assured me he had nothing to do with that.’

‘You believe him?’

Trevor shrugged. Just because he didn’t work for Derek Moody any more that didn’t release him from the obligation to keep his mouth shut. Jason knew that.

‘Do you think he met with Mimi Stephanov?’ he asked.

‘I couldn’t say.’

‘What can you say?’

His uncle sent him a dark look. ‘Lucy will have my guts for garters,’ he muttered.

‘Lucy is the least of your problems right now.’

‘You’re not married to her. Okay, what I
can
say is he wasn’t gone long. Came back looking …’ Trevor whistled for Jessie who was straying too close to a group of mums with toddlers. A little girl was crying, and her mother lifted her up and held her on her hip.

‘Could you keep your dog on a leash, please?’ she said.

She was pint-sized, and Trevor, a six-foot-four ex-bodyguard with the advantage of probably a hundred and fifty pounds, towered over her. He slipped his finger under Jessie’s collar.

‘She’d never harm a kid no matter how excited she gets,’ he said.

‘Maybe not, but my daughter doesn’t know that.’

‘You’re absolutely right, madam. I suppose when you’re that age, big dogs can be scary.’ Trevor smiled at the little girl who’d stopped crying and was now staring at this mountain of a man with huge eyes. She’d stuck her thumb in her mouth, and her dark lashes were still dewy with tears.

Jason experienced a curious kick inside. She reminded him of Helen, of what she must have looked like as a child. He could almost hear her crying, like a twenty-year-old echo.

‘Thank you,’ the woman said when Trevor had clipped the lead back on.

‘He came back looking like … what?’ Jason asked when they turned down a less crowded path in the park.

‘Sort of sick, worried maybe, not sure. He got back in the car and told me his contact didn’t turn up. He’d taken his suit jacket off and draped it over his hands inside out. When we found out later what had happened, he reassured me he had nothing to do with it, like I told you, and I never pressed him, not even after we became related. No point with your old man.’

‘And that’s all?’ Jason couldn’t help the mixture of disappointment and relief warring inside him.

‘Pretty much, except he told me to stop at an all-night petrol station. Wanted to use the gents. When he came out, he’d scrunched his jacket into a bundle. I didn’t think it the proper way to treat a bespoke tailored jacket, but I thought it best not to say anything.’

‘Could he have wrapped something in his jacket?’

Away from the toddlers and their concerned parents, Trevor released Jessie and tossed the ball again.

‘Possibly. You tell me.’

Chapter Twenty-Two

On Saturday while Jason was out, Helen had found the contact numbers for three local papers and placed an advertisement under ‘Classified’, appealing for the owner of an Airedale Terrier who’d been walking his dog on that particular morning to come forward if he had he seen something relevant to a murder which took place.

She hadn’t said anything to Jason about the way his father’s name cropped up in connection with R & D. She sensed that he really liked her, and didn’t want to spoil it by blackening his father’s name before she knew if she had any real reason to. She also had mixed feelings about placing the ad. If the dog owner had anything to do with her mother’s death, she was potentially exposing herself. Even though contact would only be through the editor, it wouldn’t protect her against someone determined enough to find her, but it seemed like she had no other options left.