Cross and Burn (14 page)

‘And the profiling?’

‘Bradfield don’t want me any more. They say it’s about economy, but I think it might have something to do with the fact that I haven’t hit it off with their new Chief Constable. James Blake and I, we’re chalk and cheese.’ Before Jacob could say anything, Tony held up one finger. ‘Which I am not blaming myself for. It’s one of those things. I’m doing bits and pieces with other forces, but there really are cuts that are affecting outside experts like me. They see us as a luxury they can’t afford. And with them training up their own so-called experts…’ He puffed out his cheeks and blew the air out. ‘I miss the work. I like it and I’m good at it.’

‘You are.’ Jacob took off his glasses and polished them. It was weird to see him shifting around so much. ‘And I have been thinking about that too. A man who has found his calling should be able to practise it, wouldn’t you say?’

Tony grinned. ‘Some might say it’s better to have no call for someone with my particular skills.’

‘There is, I think, nobody with your expertise and experience in the field. It’s time you shared that, Tony.’

He held his hands up, defensive. ‘Oh no. No more teaching. I’m not doing dog-and-pony shows again.’

‘I’m not talking about the academic life. I’m talking about writing a book. Taking the reader through your custom and practice. Showing and telling how you profile, how you resolve cases. How you work with the police, how you make your arguments. There is nothing comparable out there, Tony. You could create a future generation of profilers in your image. If the police are going to train their own, don’t you think they should be informed by best practice?’

Tony shook his head, almost laughing. ‘I’m not a writer. That’s not my skill set.’

‘You’re a communicator, though. And publishers have editors to make your prose pretty. Don’t make a decision now. Go away and think about it. It may provide you with a double satisfaction. Working through those old cases might help you work through your other process. Cleansing, not wallowing.’ Jacob looked at his watch. ‘Our time is up.’ He stood up and pointed to the book of poetry. ‘Think about what we’ve talked about. Remember what they say about bridges. The hard thing is to know which ones to cross and which ones to burn. Make some changes, Tony.’

Tony gave a wry smile and scrambled to his feet. ‘Physician, heal thyself?’ But even as he spoke, he knew he was trying to make light of what might be the most difficult choice of his adult life. Was it really time to cut Carol Jordan out of his heart for good?

A
quick pass through Nadia Wilkowa’s Facebook page had indentified the two friends in her memo-board photos as Ashley Marr and Anya Burba. Anya was a teaching assistant in a primary school in Todmorden, a twenty-minute drive from Bradfield. Ashley was closer, a receptionist in a GP-run health centre in Harriestown, a ten-minute walk from Nadia’s flat. Fielding decided Ashley would be their first target. The head receptionist wasn’t thrilled when they asked to interview her, but Fielding made it clear she wasn’t going to argue the toss. With a great deal of emphatic breathing, the receptionist showed them into a tiny room with four chairs and a table. ‘It looks more suited to a poker school than anything medical,’ Paula muttered as the woman left them alone so she could fetch Ashley.

‘Let’s hope Ms Marr doesn’t have a poker face,’ Fielding said. ‘Right then, McIntyre, let’s see what you’re made of. You lead off on the interview.’

Paula was gratified at Fielding’s confidence in her. But there was no opportunity for her to say so. Ashley Marr stuck her head round the door, looking more confused than worried. ‘Are you the police? Are you sure you’ve got the right person?’

There was no mistaking the woman in the photo. Ashley looked in her mid-twenties. She had a round, cheerful face framed with a mop of auburn hair. Her large green eyes were widely spaced and coupled with a neat little nose and a small mouth, they gave her the look of a happy kitten. Her black jeans and pink jumper were both tight, as if she’d put on a few pounds since she’d bought them. Paula gave her a welcoming smile. Best to keep things relaxed and informal till they got the young woman settled, then hit her with the bad news. ‘Come in, Ashley. I’m Paula McIntyre and this is Alex Fielding. We’re police detectives here in Bradfield. Have a seat, please.’ Paula waved her to the chair furthest from the door and sat down at right angles to her.

Ashley perched on the edge of the chair. ‘I don’t understand. I haven’t done anything. What’s all this about? Do I need a lawyer? They always ask for a lawyer on the telly.’

Paula inwardly cursed the ubiquitous inaccuracies of TV drama. ‘You really don’t need a lawyer. It’s nothing you’ve done, Ashley. We need to talk to you about one of your friends.’ From her bag, she produced a copy of one of the photos from Nadia’s kitchen. She pointed to Nadia. ‘Do you recognise this person?’

Ashley looked scared. ‘It’s Nad. My mate, Nad. Nadia. What’s happened to her? Why are you here?’

‘I’m afraid I’ve got some very sad news, Ashley.’ Paula reached across the angle of the table and put a hand over hers. ‘Nadia’s dead.’

The colour drained from Ashley’s cheeks, making her pale freckles distinct as a rash. Her hands flew to the sides of her head and she looked stunned. ‘I don’t believe it. Not Nad. You must have made a mistake. It’s her mum that’s got cancer, not her.’

‘There’s no mistake, Ashley. I’m very sorry. I know this is a terrible time for you, but we really need your help.’

‘Can we get you a cup of tea or a drink of water?’ Fielding leaned forward and for a moment, Paula could see that she’d be the kind of mother you could rely on.

Ashley shook her head. ‘What happened? How can she be dead? She’s in Poland, she texted me only the other day, saying the weather was crap where she was and how she was looking forward to coming home.’ Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘She never texted me on Monday, is that when she died?’ Paula felt Fielding’s quick glance at her. The squatters had returned on Tuesday morning to find Nadia’s body in their living room. It looked as if the killer saw no need to pretend Nadia was alive after he’d murdered her. He simply wanted to prevent anyone raising the alarm while she was still with him.

‘We think someone took Nadia,’ Paula said. ‘He kept her prisoner. And then he killed her.’

‘In Poland?’

‘We think she never left Bradfield,’ Paula said.

‘But she texted me. She said she had to go home at short notice because her mum had cancer and she thought she was going to die. I said to Skype me when she got there but she said she couldn’t because her mum didn’t have internet access. So we texted.’ She pulled her phone out. ‘Look, I’ll show you.’

‘That’s really helpful, Ashley. And we’ll need a copy of those text exchanges between you. Did anything strike you as odd about anything she said in her texts? Or the way she said it?’

Ashley frowned. ‘Everything was just normal. That’s why none of this makes any sense. Are you sure you’ve got the right person?’

Paula’s heart went out to her. ‘I know this is a terrible thing for you to hear, but we’re sure. And we need all the help we can get. The sooner we get it, the more chance there is that we’ll catch whoever did this to your friend. So we’d like to ask you some questions. Do you mind?’ It was heartless, to demand such a thing when the woman was still in shock. But necessary.

Ashley’s eyes brimmed with tears and she started to shake. Paula put an arm round her shoulders and let her sob. Her eyes met Fielding’s. Any suggestion of sympathy had disappeared. Her boss made a rolling gesture with her hand; hurry it up.
Fuck that.
Paula let Ashley cry, finding a packet of tissues in her pocket to wipe her eyes and blow her nose when the first storm had passed. ‘I’m s-s-sorry,’ Ashley hiccuped, smudged mascara giving her racoon eyes.

‘Don’t be. She was your friend. It’s right to feel upset.’ Paula sat back but kept a hand on Ashley’s arm. ‘So, tell me when you last saw Nadia.’

Ashley gulped and swallowed, then managed to speak. ‘It was a Saturday.’ She counted back, her lips moving silently. ‘Three weeks ago. We went down Manchester to go shopping at the Trafford Centre. They’ve got, like, a load of cool shops there. We met up with Anya – that’s our other mate, Anya Burba. She’s Polish, like Nad. Anyhow, we met up at Burger King at noon and had a burger then we went round the shops.’ She stopped, smitten by memory, her bottom lip quivering.

‘Did you buy anything?’ Paula sounded chatty, interested in the shopping rather than the sinister.

‘I got some purple jeggings and a sequinned top to match. Nad got two blouses for work. A yellow one and a blue one. They had, like, a white pinstripe. They were really pretty, she looked lush in them. Anya, she got some stuff out of Body Shop. Bath stuff. She’d live in the bath, give her half a chance. Then we went to the food court and had chips and Cokes. Then Anya gave me a lift home. ’Cause Nad decided she wanted to see this movie that me and Anya didn’t fancy.’

There was always a moment in an interview when the witness said something whose significance wasn’t obvious to them. The trick was not to show that it mattered. Paula had to struggle to keep her hand from gripping Ashley’s hand tightly, as if she could squeeze information from her. ‘What film was that?’

Ashley shrugged. ‘Dunno, really. It was something French. Nad, she speaks French as well as English. It had subtitles, like, but I’d rather watch the telly or go down the pub. If I wanted to read all night, I’d buy, like, a magazine.’

‘So Nadia was planning to go to the cinema alone?’

‘Yeah. She did that sometimes. She was into films, way more than me and Anya.’

It made sense. Paula remembered a couple of French films in the stack of DVDs in Nadia’s flat. ‘And she was happy to go by herself?’

‘Yeah, why not?’

‘And you’re sure she hadn’t made plans to meet anyone there?’

Ashley shook her head. ‘It was a spur of the moment thing. We went and had a look at what was on, to see if there was something we all fancied. And when Nad spotted that French film she was made up.’ Her face crumpled. ‘That might have been the last thing she ever did before he got her, right?’ Tears dribbled down her cheeks again.

‘We don’t know, Ashley. Now, here’s how you can help us even more. I want you to cast your mind back to that Saturday. Were you aware of anyone following you? Was there anybody you kept catching sight of?’

Ashley frowned, concentrating on recall. ‘Nothing springs to mind. We were just out having a laugh and a shop, we weren’t paying attention to anybody else.’

‘And you didn’t get into a ruck with anybody? Nobody hit on you?’

She shook her head. ‘Nothing like that. Like I said, we weren’t interested in anybody else.’

‘You didn’t see any guys you fancied, then?’

Ashley gave her a shrewd look. ‘Not that we did anything about. We were looking, like. When we were sitting down eating, we were checking out the talent. But not in any serious way. Just, like, “he’s hench”, or, like, “he’s got a nice bum”. We never spoke to any of them and they never spoke to us. It was totally, like, normal.’

‘What about boyfriends? Was Nadia seeing anybody?’

Ashley looked down at the table. ‘Not any more.’

Paula caught Fielding’s eye. They were both like pointers who had caught a whiff of prey. ‘She’d been seeing someone?’

‘Yeah, but it’s been over and done for months.’ She looked up and cottoned on to Paula’s interest. ‘It’s not what you’re thinking. She was going out with this Polish bloke, Pawel. She started seeing him soon after she moved over here. When it was all done and dusted, she said she thought she’d fallen for him because she was feeling homesick and he made her feel safe. She was going out with him when I first met her. He was a nice bloke, he was working as a hotel receptionist. Anyway, one night they were out in Leeds and they ran into this other Polish woman who totally freaked out. She called Nad a slapper. Well, she said it in Polish, but that was the gist of it. She said Pawel had a wife and two kids in Gdansk and Nad was a dirty whore. All at top volume in the middle of a bar. Well, Pawel tried to make out it was a case of mistaken identity, but the woman wasn’t having it. She whipped out her phone and took a photo of the two of them and said if he didn’t get his sleazy arse home to Gdansk, she would send it to his wife so she’d know what a bastard she’d married. And that was that, pretty much.’

‘She dumped him?’

Ashley shrugged. ‘One of those things where you’re not sure who got the shaft in first. She dumped him or he dumped her on his way to the airport. He went back to Poland and she said she was taking a break from men.’

‘And did she? Take a break?’

Ashley looked mildly shifty. ‘Pretty much. She had a one-night stand with one of the doctors at Bradfield Moor after a Christmas party, but they were both off their chops. No hard feelings the next morning, but neither of them was interested in taking it further.’

‘There’s a set of keys on Nadia’s keyring that don’t fit her flat. Do you know whose keys they are, Ashley?’

She nodded, her face bleak. ‘They’re Anya’s house keys. She’s, like, totally dozy, always locking herself out. So she gave a set to Nad because Nad’s dead organised and that way Anya wouldn’t be screwed the next time she left her keys sitting on the breakfast bar.’

It made sense. Paula pulled the photo of the three women towards her. ‘Looks like you three like to party. Did you ever get anybody bothering you? Taking an unhealthy interest in Nad?’

Ashley chewed the skin at the edge of her pinkie nail. ‘We like a night out,’ she said eventually. ‘We have a few drinks, but we’re not like some of those mad bitches that get so off their faces they don’t know their own names by the end of the night. We’re not silly little girls, Detective. We have a laugh but we don’t take stupid risks. That’s why I can’t believe Nad’s gone.’

‘What about drugs? Did Nad ever do drugs?’

Ashley sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Everybody over thirty thinks our generation’s permanently off our tits. Look, I did E when I was a teenager. A few times, when I was out clubbing. I did coke half a dozen times when I was twenty. But I don’t do that shit now. I’ve got a good job, my own flat, my own car. I’m not going to flush all that down the toilet. And Nad was the same. She came over here to make enough money to go back to Poland and have a good life. She wasn’t going to risk all that for one daft night. No way.’ She gave a twisted little smile. ‘We’re the good girls, Detective.’ Then the bravado crumbled and tears spilled again. ‘Shit like this, it’s not supposed to happen to girls like us.’

Except that this time it had.