Kissing the Demons (20 page)

Den shook his head vigorously. ‘I never met her.'

‘You seem very sure.'

‘I am. I never saw her till . . .'

‘Did Andy ever mention her?'

Den took a deep breath. ‘He might have done.'

‘What did he say?'

‘Just that he was helping her with something. And before you ask I don't know what it was.'

‘When did you last see him?'

‘A few days ago.'

‘Where did you see him?'

‘At his house. I went there.'

‘When?'

He thought for a moment. ‘Monday night.'

‘After you'd found Petulia's body?'

He nodded. ‘Yeah. I needed to talk to him but she said he was busy.'

‘She? Do you mean Anna, the Polish girl he lives with?'

‘She wasn't very nice to me. She told me he was busy but when he came to see who was at the door he asked me in,' he said with a hint of triumph.

‘And what did you want to see him about?'

‘That's private.'

‘Nothing's private to us,' said Emily sharply.

‘It's got nothing to do with the police.'

‘You're not doing yourself any favours being obstructive like this.'

‘I'm not being obstructive. Some things are private, that's all.'

Joe decided on a new approach. ‘Have you seen Grace Cassidy's piano teacher, Ian Zepper, since she died?'

‘No.'

Emily touched Joe's arm and he followed her out into the hall. Mrs Harvey was doing something noisy in the kitchen and she had the door open, watching them intently. Emily whispered to Joe that Scientific Support said they'd be over right away and she didn't want to leave Den alone with his computer so that he had a chance to delete anything relevant. When they returned to the front parlour and sat down Den was looking increasingly nervous. There was definitely something he was holding back.

‘Perhaps it would be best if you came back to the police station with us to answer some more questions,' said Emily.

‘Why? I've already told you that I don't know nothing about that girl's murder. I haven't done nothing.'

‘You were a suspect in Sharon's murder and now you're connected with another girl murdered in a similar way.'

‘I haven't done anything wrong.'

‘Get out of this house.'

Mrs Harvey was standing by the door, arms folded. ‘He had nothing to do with Sharon's murder . . . or this latest one. You asked him where he was on Saturday night . . . well he was here with me. And I'll swear to that in any court in the land. Now get out.'

At that moment the doorbell rang and Joe could see the relief in Emily's eyes. The cavalry in the shape of Scientific Support had arrived.

‘We'll need to take your computer away, Den. We'll let you have it back as soon as we can.'

Den Harvey looked distraught. But he knew better than to argue.

When Joe returned to the office there was a message waiting on his desk. Please ring Steve Portright. It took Joe a few seconds to place the name before he realized that Steve Portright was Jade's father.

He looked at his watch. Cassidy hadn't been answering his phone and it would be a while before Scientific Support came up with anything on Den Harvey's computer so he made the call.

Portright sounded agitated and said he needed to talk urgently. Joe told him he'd be round as soon as he could.

When he told Emily where he was off to, she asked if he wanted company but he reckoned that Portright would be more forthcoming if they talked man to man.

‘I just hope Jamilla's visit hasn't raised their hopes,' Emily said as he turned to leave.

He drove out to the Portrights' address in a neat cul-de-sac of small red-brick, semi-detached houses about half a mile from where their daughter was last seen. The houses had been built for workers in the nearby chocolate factory by their benevolent employer but the chocolate factory was now owned by a multinational company and many of the houses had been sold on the open market.

He knew from the files that Steve Portright and his wife both worked in the factory. But today they were home. And this made Joe suspect that something had happened.

Mrs Portright – Sue – answered the door and invited him in. She was a small, thin woman with short, bottle blonde hair. Her face was heavily lined and she smelled of tobacco. She had the look of someone who lived on her nerves.

She led Joe into a small living room where there wasn't a thing out of place; not a spot of fluff on the pale carpet or a cushion dented by human form. Joe wondered how anybody could live like that.

‘Your husband said he had something important to tell us.'

The door opened and the man who stood there was below average height with the pugnacious look of a fighting dog. His head was shaved and he wore a T-shirt that showed off a pair of tattooed arms. Joe couldn't see much resemblance between Jade and either of her parents. But he'd never had a chance to see her in the flesh; film and photograph can deceive.

Joe shook hands with the man and sat down. ‘You said you had something important to tell us.'

‘I've seen her. I've seen our Jade.'

‘Seen her? Where?'

‘In town. Coming out of Boots on Coopergate at eleven thirty this morning. I've taken a bit of time off work and I got the bus into town to pick up a fishing rod I'd ordered and I just saw her coming out of the shop. Then when I called out to her she disappeared.'

‘Do you think she heard you?' Joe didn't think for one moment that Portright had really spotted his daughter. It was probably a case of wishful thinking.

‘She sort of half looked round and . . . she heard me alright.'

‘And you were sure it was her, weren't you, love?' It was Mrs Portright who spoke. She sounded as though she was trying to convince herself that her husband's story was true.

Joe sat in silence for a few moments. This couple wanted to believe in their own personal miracle but it was up to him to play devil's advocate.

‘How come you're so certain that it was her? If she is . . . if she is still alive then she'll have changed a lot in twelve years.'

Steve Portright leaned forward and jabbed an accusing finger at Joe. ‘I'd recognize my own daughter anywhere.'

‘Perhaps it was someone who looked like her. Look, I'm sorry to seem so negative but we have to be sure before we take any action.'

‘She looked round and I saw her eyes. One was slightly lighter than the other – only slightly, most people wouldn't notice. It must be in your files.'

‘So you got quite near to her?'

‘About twelve feet away.'

‘If it was Jade, why didn't she acknowledge you?'

Steve Portright shifted awkwardly in his seat. ‘We had a row before she . . . Maybe she feels awkward about it. Look, we only want a chance to make things right.'

‘Remind me what the row was about.' Joe had read it in the file but he wanted to hear it from the parents' lips.

‘She wanted to go to this club in town and stay out late and . . . just the usual teenage stuff.'

Joe nodded. To the teenage mind that might have been worth a token protest, maybe even staying away for a couple of nights. But twelve years of making your parents think you're dead? Somehow he couldn't quite see it.

Joe stood up. ‘I'll get someone to go through any CCTV footage we can find of the Coopergate area at that time. We might need you to point out the woman you think is your daughter.'

‘It was my daughter. We'll find her. I know we will.'

Joe glanced at Mrs Portright who was sucking on a freshly lit cigarette. She didn't look as confident as her husband.

In fact Joe thought she looked a little frightened.

When Andy Cassidy had returned from Leeds the previous night before it had been late. Normally Anna would have been there waiting for him but the house had been in total darkness and there was no sign of her.

He'd checked her wardrobe but he could see nothing missing apart from her handbag and the coat she usually wore. Then, feeling exhausted, he'd undressed and climbed into bed.

When he awoke the next day and realized that she still hadn't come home, he wondered whether he should report her missing. But involving the police would only draw attention to himself. And that was the last thing he wanted.

He spent the morning in a meeting at the Council offices near the library, his mind still on Anna, and at two o'clock he called in to his house, only to find that everything was just as he'd left it that morning.

He saw the light blinking on his answering machine and he rushed to listen to the messages. But his heart sank when he heard it was Inspector Plantagenet. He wanted another word.

Cassidy sat for a while, contemplating the best course of action. He had to get the police off his back somehow.

As he was just about to go into the kitchen and make himself a drink, the doorbell rang and he stood there, statue still, torn between pretending he wasn't in and facing whatever the police had in store for him. Eventually he walked slowly out into the hall and when he peeped through the spy hole in the front door, he saw Joe Plantagenet standing on his doorstep beside the plump blonde DCI.

‘We'd like to talk to you about Den Harvey,' Joe said as they stepped inside.

Cassidy led them through to the drawing room and invited them to sit.

‘You know Den Harvey?'

‘I know him.'

‘You met at a school camp when you were teenagers.'

‘That's right. YSY. The aim was to bring different social classes together from schools all over Yorkshire. I was at St William's and Den was at the local comp. We got on pretty well for a while so I suppose we were one of YSY's successes.' He looked the Inspector in the eye, the model of cooperation.

‘And you stayed friends after you were convicted of killing your sister.'

‘We lost touch for a while. But recently we've met up a few times.'

‘Den was there when Pet Ferribie's body was found,' said Emily. ‘Now I've never really believed in coincidences like that.'

‘Eborby's not a huge city, Chief Inspector.'

Emily leaned forward until Cassidy could almost feel her warm breath on his cheek. ‘He seems an unlikely friend for someone like you to cultivate.'

‘Den's brighter than he looks. And he hasn't always been such a slob. He was OK before he let himself go and put on all that weight, although he was always a bit of a mummy's boy. If Sharon hadn't died I reckon it would have been a different story: he'd have cut the apron strings and flown the nest. Instead he turned into a sad loser. I feel sorry for him, if you must know. He's had a raw deal.'

‘You knew Sharon?'

‘She was a nice kid. Bit wary of me though.'

‘Hardly surprising.'

‘I was innocent so she had no reason to be worried.'

‘What's your relationship with Den now?'

‘Like I said, we meet up sometimes.'

‘So what do you have in common?' she paused. ‘Adventurous sexual tastes? You admitted yourself that you're a bit of a ladies' man.'

Cassidy could feel his face burning and hoped it wouldn't be noticed. ‘My tastes are pretty tame really.'

‘Did you ask Pet to join in with any adventurous activities?'

Cassidy shook his head vigorously, annoyed at the implication of the question. ‘No way. What do you think I am?'

‘That's what we're trying to find out,' said Joe. ‘I can't help feeling there's something we're missing.'

Cassidy gave him a guarded smile, sensing they were moving on to dangerous ground.

‘Have you any photographs of that YSY camp you were at?' the DCI asked sweetly.

Cassidy thought for a moment. Then he remembered the box of keepsakes he'd brought from his childhood home; the box he'd put in the back of a cupboard and never opened because he knew it contained pictures of his sister. He hauled himself out of his seat, suddenly feeling like an old man. The weight of memory was a heavy burden.

He left the room and returned five minutes later with a photograph – a group picture in faded colour of adolescent boys, casually posed in front of what looked like a log cabin. There were some boys in the background too but they obviously weren't meant to be included in the picture. He handed it to the DCI.

‘This is some of the Eborby contingent. That's Den there.'

He saw the two officers peer at the picture as though they hoped it contained the answer to all their problems. But eventually they gave up.

‘Do you mind if we borrow this picture?'

Cassidy nodded.

‘Where's Anna?' Joe asked.

‘I'm not sure. She didn't say where she was going.'

This seemed to satisfy them. But as they were making for the door Joe turned to face him. ‘We've spoken to Ian Zepper.'

Cassidy felt his heart begin to thump against his chest.

‘I understand that his relationship with Grace was close.'

‘That's one way of putting it.'

‘You think it was . . . inappropriate?'

Cassidy walked over to the window and stared out for a few moments, considering his reply. ‘She was only fifteen and she was infatuated with him. And yes, I think they were having sex.'

‘Did your parents suspect?'

‘My dad was on his own . . . too busy to bother much. And Zepper talked the talk – how Grace was so talented and he wanted to develop that talent and all that crap. He and Grace had a row about a piece of music she wanted to play for an exam. He had a temper.' He paused. ‘And whoever killed her hacked off her fingers.' He saw the two police officers look at each other. ‘Zepper said it was just a difference of opinion about a piece of music. He said it didn't really matter that much and the police believed him.'