Kissing the Demons (6 page)

‘Did I hear someone say the word “police”?'

Emily turned to face him. She looked unimpressed. ‘And you are?'

‘I'm Jason Petrie. I live here. I assume you've come about Pet. Matt's panicking. She'll be back as though nothing's happened . . .'

‘Mr Bawtry said her absence was out of character,' said Joe.

Jason shrugged.

‘How long have you known Petulia?' Emily addressed the question to all three of them.

It was Caro who answered. ‘About eighteen months. We met in our first year when we were all in Dewsbury Hall – that's at the university. We decided to get a house together and . . .'

‘I take it you're all students?'

‘Apart from Jason,' said Matt. ‘He failed his exams. Dropped out.'

Jason gave a wry smile and inclined his head.

‘What do you do now?' Joe asked.

‘Good question,' said Caro under her breath.

‘Bit of busking. Bit of bar work to make ends meet. I get by.'

‘And he's got a rich daddy with a guilty conscience,' said Caro with a hint of bitterness. ‘OK for some.'

‘Actually I've got an audition on Tuesday – playing guitar with a jazz group,' said Jason. He sounded a little defensive. ‘They get regular gigs at weddings and hotels and . . .'

‘You never mentioned that,' said Caro.

‘Why should I?'

‘Oh fuck off,' said Caro. ‘I just wish you'd grow up.'

The vehemence of Caro's words surprised Joe. There was hostility in this house. He could almost smell it.

Emily took charge of the situation. ‘Let's get back to Petulia, shall we? When did you last see her?' She looked at Matt expectantly.

‘We had a party on Friday night. Fancy dress. Pet was floating around dressed as a fairy or something. I didn't see her the next morning but then I slept in till lunchtime.'

‘Was she with anyone at the party?'

Matt shook his head. ‘She was just wandering about on her own. I thought she looked a bit lost.' He looked regretful, Joe thought. Perhaps he'd have liked to have been with Pet himself.

‘She was probably bored,' said Jason. ‘I know I was. What idiot invited that rugby crowd anyway?'

When Matt didn't answer Joe suspected a guilty conscience.

He gave Caro a businesslike smile. ‘And you, Caro? When did you last see her?'

‘The Saturday morning after the party. She was going into town. The Eborby Music Festival was on and there was an outdoor concert of early music. Pet's a music student and she's into that sort of thing.' She paused. ‘Actually she seemed quite excited about it . . . which isn't like Pet. Maybe there was going to be an added attraction – something more interesting there than a load of flutes and lutes.'

‘A man?'

‘Well, she's not interested in women,' Caro said, sounding slightly disappointed. ‘And like Matt and Jason said, she certainly wasn't with anyone at the party.'

‘And you?' Joe was suddenly curious.

‘What about me?'

‘Were you with anyone at the party?'

She was suddenly on the defensive. ‘I don't see that that's relevant.'

‘Oh come on, Caro,' said Jason. ‘You were draped around that rather butch girl from Media Studies.' Caro was about to open her mouth but Jason continued. ‘And for the record I borrowed a white coat and stethoscope from a medic mate of mine and Matt here went as a cowboy. Such imagination.'

‘What are you all studying?' Joe asked.

‘I'm doing Accountancy and Business Studies,' said Caro. ‘Matt's electrical engineering and, as I said, Pet's studying music.'

‘And I was wrestling with the finer points of the Metaphysical Poets before I was chucked off my course,' said Jason. ‘English.'

‘I did English at Leeds,' said Emily, hoping to establish a rapport.

‘Then you followed the path of Dogberry and Verges?' said Jason with a smirk.

‘We're not all “foolish officers”,' she answered quickly.

Jason looked rather surprised that she'd picked up so quickly on Shakespeare's description of his two inept law enforcers from
Much Ado About Nothing
. Surprised and a little deflated.

‘You don't seem very worried about Petulia, Jason? Why is that?'

Jason shrugged. ‘Caro's just told you she was excited about that concert or whatever it was. I was out busking – entertaining our illustrious tourists – and I saw her making for Stone Street where this festival thing was being held. At a guess she'll have been meeting someone who wasn't at the party. That's why she'd been looking so pissed off in her little fairy costume.'

‘What about the phone call? Tell us again what you heard.'

Everyone looked at Matt as he told them about the strange call from Pet's mobile, stumbling over his words as if rendered suddenly nervous by his rapt audience. When he'd finished Jason chipped in with his salacious interpretation of events but Matt shook his head vigorously.

‘And what time was this exactly?'

‘Eleven thirty last night. I've been trying ever since but I'm just getting voice mail.'

Joe and Emily exchanged looks. If necessary they could pinpoint where the phone had been when it had been answered so strangely. But Joe hoped it wouldn't come to that.

They kept the conversation going, finding out all they could about Pet, about her background, her friends and her lovers. Not that there had been many of the latter, according to Caro who seemed the most dispassionate of the trio.

Then Joe asked whether they had Pet's home address. Caro shook her head. There was a stepmother, she said, but there was no way Pet would have gone to her because she detested the woman. There were no brothers or sisters and her father was in Dubai. Pet didn't talk about her family much. In fact she hardly mentioned them at all.

When Joe asked if they had a recent photo of Pet, Caro left the room and returned a minute later with a photograph. Joe took it from her and studied it. There were four people in the picture: Caro, Matt and Jason and, at the edge of the group was a girl with fine blonde hair tumbling to her shoulders. She was small with perfect, almost feline features. But despite her beauty, she had a rather vacant look, as though her mind was somewhere else.

‘Mind if I keep this?' he said.

Caro shrugged. ‘Help yourself.'

Joe tucked the picture carefully into his wallet. Perhaps Caro was right. Perhaps Pet had just gone off for the weekend with some new lover she wanted to keep from her housemates. But Matt was sure that was out of character so maybe he was right to worry. If she didn't turn up soon he'd want to speak to Jason again as he was apparently the last of the group to see her – Joe almost mentally added the word ‘alive' but it was far too early to fear the worst.

He caught Emily's eye. It was time to ask their next question – the original reason for their visit. Emily gave him a small nod. She was leaving it to him.

‘I know this is a long shot,' he began. ‘But have you heard of a young woman called Jasmine who lived at this address about twelve years ago?'

As expected, Jason gave a dismissive grunt. ‘You're joking, aren't you. We would have been about eight.'

‘I realize that but I imagine you can put me in touch with your landlord.'

‘He won't be able to help you,' said Caro. ‘He only bought this place three years ago. And twelve years ago he would have been at uni.'

‘Where?'

Matt looked up. ‘Here in Eborby. He stayed and went into property development.'

‘Then we'll need his contact details,' Emily said.

Caro wrote something on a sheet of paper and handed it to Emily who stood up.

‘If Pet turns up, inform us right away.' she said, making for the door.

Joe followed her, looking around, thankful for once that his own student days were over.

The visit to Petulia Ferribie's student house had taken Joe's mind temporarily off the strange letter from ‘K' he'd received in the post the previous day but now, as he followed Emily up the crazy-paved garden path of the house next door to number thirteen, it pushed its way to the forefront of his thoughts. There was only one certain way to discover the identity of ‘K' and that was to keep the appointment. He was tempted to share his problem with Emily but he decided against it. This was something he'd have to deal with himself.

He stood a little behind Emily as she rapped firmly on the door of number fifteen Torland Place. In contrast to its neighbour, here the paintwork was fresh and the windows, with their Roman blinds, sparkled clean in the weak spring sunlight.

The door swung opened to reveal a woman in her late twenties. She had a wide mouth, shoulder length blonde hair and her jeans and loose floral top showed off her slim figure to best advantage.

But her attractive face was marred by the angry scowl she aimed in Emily's direction. ‘We're not interested,' she said, preparing to shut the door in the DCI's face.

But Emily held up her warrant card and introduced herself and the scowl turned into a worried frown.

‘What is it? What's happened? Is it Rory?' The words came out in a rush.

He saw Emily's expression soften. Finding two police officers on the doorstep was enough to make any law-abiding person fear the worst, especially if a loved one is away from home.

‘It's nothing to worry about Mrs . . .'

‘Quillan. Jackie Quillan.'

‘We'd just like to ask you some questions about the house next door. How long have you lived here?'

‘Two years.'

Joe saw the look of disappointment on Emily's face.

‘Do you know where we can find the previous owner?'

Jackie Quillan nodded. It looked as if they were in luck. ‘We bought the house from my husband's uncle. He couldn't manage any more so he went into sheltered accommodation. We were coming back up to Eborby to live so it seemed like the ideal arrangement.'

‘Where can we find him?' Joe asked, notebook at the ready.

Jackie recited an address in the suburb of Pickby, not far from Emily's own home. ‘What's all this about? Why do you want to see him?'

‘It concerns something that happened twelve years ago. We're trying to trace a young woman who lived in the house next door. Number thirteen.'

‘There are new students in there every year so you're going to have your work cut out.' She held the door half open, as if she was anxious to shut it and get rid of them.

‘Do you know the students who live there now? There's a girl called Petulia Ferribie?' Joe asked.

The answer was a shake of the head. ‘I don't know their names. They don't communicate much. Are you going to see Uncle Norman then?'

‘Yes. We'll pay him a visit. Just routine. I don't suppose there's anyone else in your house who might have had more contact with the students next door?' Emily asked hopefully.

‘There's only me and my husband and we've hardly said a word to them. High fences make good neighbours, so they say. And so do thick walls.' She gave them an insincere smile and made to shut the door.

‘Don't take too much notice of anything Uncle Norman tells you. He gets confused,' she said before the door swung shut in their faces.

‘The lady doth protest too much, me thinks,' Emily muttered as they made their way back to the car.

‘You've got a suspicious mind,' Joe said, flicking the remote control that opened the car doors. ‘Where next?'

‘Let's go and spoil the landlord's Sunday lunch.' She sighed. ‘Ever get the feeling you're wasting your time, Joe?'

‘Frequently.' At that moment Joe longed to be in some cosy town centre pub with a Sunday roast and a pint of Black Sheep to wash it down with. ‘Fancy lunch at the Star?'

Emily looked at her watch. ‘I'm tempted but we'd better see the landlord first.' She paused. ‘I think those students were worried about something other than the missing girl. There was an odd atmosphere in that house, don't you think?'

‘And it backs on to the woods where Jade and Nerys were last seen.'

‘You're right, Joe. That house is the epicentre for something but God only knows what it is.' Emily gave him an enigmatic smile. ‘So let's go and see this landlord and then mine's a roast beef and large Yorkshire pudding.'

She climbed into the driver's seat and set off, exceeding the speed limit by ten miles per hour.

Obediah Shrowton. Matt mouthed the name. It was a name from another era, conjuring a picture of a whiskered patriarch in a starched collar and forbidding black. Stern, humourless and mildly malevolent. He couldn't leave it alone. But what, if anything, was the connection between Obediah Shrowton and the hectic transient lives they led at Torland Place? If he dug deeper it might start to make sense.

He sat in his room, overlooking the wood where the skeletal branches of the trees had acquired a green mist of buds. There was something unsettling about those trees. They leaned together as though they were sharing some nasty secret and at night when the wind blew they whispered like conspiring ghosts. He'd always liked trees; they represented the fun of climbing and the beauty of nature. But Dead Man's Wood was different somehow. And he didn't know why.

He'd already discovered the bare facts of the Shrowton case but it was time to find out more. After clicking on a variety of websites eventually he struck gold. Obediah Shrowton's full biography, laid out neatly and easy to read.