Streetwise (21 page)

‘Erm, I’m not really sure.’ Ava, starting to panic, rapidly searched for a plausible answer. ‘But, well, it might have been because when I saw Lydia on Friday, I mentioned that I was going to Norfolk this weekend to see my mum. Perhaps she thought there was no point in ringing me if I was that far away.’

‘But you didn’t go,’ Middleton said.

Ava met the gaze of the inspector and fought against the urge to look away. ‘No, I changed my mind.’

‘Any particular reason?’

‘The weather,’ replied Ava, surprised by how easily the lie rose to her lips. ‘I didn’t want to drive through the snow.’ From the corner of her eye she was aware of Hannah staring at her and she sent up a silent prayer that once, just for once, the woman would keep her big mouth shut.

Noah, who was ostensibly making preparations to open the bar, was actually eavesdropping on the conversation that was taking place on the leather sofas directly in front of the counter. The two police officers had arrived five minutes ago. Initially, he thought they’d come about the shooting at Belles. It was common knowledge, especially among the local constabulary, that there was no love lost between Guy and the Street family.

Although the news of Lydia Hall’s suicide had come as a shock – sudden death was always shocking – it had not entirely surprised him. Lydia had always seemed a brittle, fragile kind of girl, highly-strung and prone to extreme emotions. He had not known her long, only a few months, but long enough to be aware that her mental state was not an entirely balanced one. He was pretty sure that she had provided the dead rat that Guy had sent to Terry Street.

DI Middleton was the cop doing most of the talking. She was a tall, attractive blonde in her mid-thirties, dressed in a tailored, navy blue suit that flattered her curves. ‘So, you think her mother’s name was Karen Hall?’

‘Yes,’ Guy said. ‘Karen, I’m pretty sure it was Karen. Lydia thought I might know someone who had known her mother. Of course
my
mother probably did, but as you’re aware…’

Noah watched as Middleton gave a nod. Lizzie Street had been murdered several years back and wouldn’t be telling anyone anything. ‘But the name wasn’t familiar to you?’

‘It didn’t ring any bells, but it was a long time ago. I think she said that her mother left the area when she was about sixteen. I doubt if I was even born then.’

‘What do you think Lydia hoped to achieve?’

‘Achieve?’ Guy echoed. ‘I don’t know if she wanted to
achieve
anything. I think she was just… just searching for somewhere she could call home. I got the impression that she’d had a rather unstable background, that she’d moved around a lot, never settled anywhere. Perhaps she was just looking for some roots.’

‘Do you know if she had other family?’

‘She didn’t mention anyone.’

‘Did she have a boyfriend?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘But you were friends. Didn’t the subject ever crop up?’

Guy sat forward, resting his hands on his knees. Since hearing the news, two short, deep lines had engraved themselves into the space between his eyes. ‘Well, I’d say we were friendly rather than friends.’

‘I’m not sure I understand the distinction.’

Guy made a loose gesture towards their surroundings. ‘I run a bar, Inspector, which means I get to meet a lot of people. And talk to a lot of people. I did have a few chats with Lydia, but to be honest it wasn’t anything more than that. When she first came here she didn’t know anyone. I suppose I felt sorry for her. She came across as… I don’t know… a bit of a lost soul.’

‘So not close, then?’

‘No, not close, but I liked her. And I’m sorry, really sorry, to hear about what’s happened.’

There was a short respectful silence before the other cop, the harder-faced, younger woman said, ‘Did Lydia ever mention the name Jeremy Squires to you?’

‘Squires? Wasn’t he the man who got shot last night?’

‘Yes.’

‘No, never. Did they know each other?’

‘Apparently so.’

Guy pulled a face. ‘Really? But you can’t think… I mean, she didn’t… there’s no connection between the two events, is there?’

‘That’s what we’re trying to find out. Did
you
know Mr Squires?’

‘Only by sight. He came here occasionally, not very often.’

‘But of course you do know Danny Street.’

Guy gave a thin smile before raising both his hands, palms out. ‘Not guilty,’ he said. ‘I was here all night until closing. There are plenty of witnesses if you’d like to check.’

DI Middleton joined the conversation again. ‘No one’s accusing you of anything, Mr Wilder.’

‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

‘We’re just trying to shed some light on why Lydia Hall should take her own life.’

‘Well, I wish I could help, but apart from the obvious…’

‘The obvious?’

Guy gave a shake of his head, followed by a long sigh. ‘That she was unhappy. That she couldn’t see an end to that unhappiness. Isn’t that why most people commit suicide?’ He looked at his watch and then back at the two women. ‘I wish I could help you more, but if you don’t have any further questions, I really should be getting on. We’re due to open shortly.’

While Guy showed the officers out, Noah picked a lemon out of the bowl and started slicing it up. He waited until the door had closed before raising his eyes again. ‘Why did you lie to them?’

Guy sauntered over to the bar. ‘About what?’

‘You know what. About Lydia’s past, about her mother, about everything you told her.’

‘Oh that,’ he said dismissively. ‘Why should I help the police? Let them do their own investigating.’

By Monday morning the snow had turned to a sleety rain, making the pavements of Kellston even more perilous than the day before. As DI Valerie Middleton walked down from Cowan Road police station, her boots slipping and sliding on the icy surface, she knew that if she wasn’t careful she’d end up on her backside. With her left hand holding on to her umbrella she pulled her right hand out of her pocket to give her better balance. Already she was regretting that she hadn’t brought the car. The cold, nipping at her nose and ears, made her shiver. The breath escaped from her mouth in small steamy clouds.

It was a relief when she finally reached Connolly’s and was able to push open the door and step into the welcome warmth of the café. The breakfast shift was in full swing and most of the tables were occupied. The room smelled of fried bacon, coffee and damp coats. Jeff Butler was sitting right at the back, his head bent in concentration as he tucked into a Full English. She ordered a cappuccino from the counter, waited for it to be frothed and poured, and then went over to join him.

‘Morning,’ she said, pulling out the chair opposite to his. ‘Fuelling up?’

‘Valerie,’ he said. ‘Good to see you.’ He gestured with his fork towards the plate. ‘Comfort eating. The wife’s gone to Oslo on a business trip so I’m having to fend for myself.’

‘Ah, fending. Is that what you call it? Well, I’m sure she’ll be overjoyed to come home and find you three stone heavier.’

Butler laughed while he cut into a slice of bacon. ‘So what’s bubbling with the Squires case? You want to go first or shall I?’

Valerie glanced towards his plate and smiled. ‘You eat and I’ll talk. That way your food won’t go cold.’ She took a sip of coffee while she gathered her thoughts. Although they’d liaised over the phone, they hadn’t had a chance of a proper catch-up. Five minutes later, having run through a detailed account of the previous day, she was done.

‘So that’s pretty much it,’ she said, summing up. ‘The one linking factor between all these events appears to be Ava Gold. Squires reportedly said the name Ava while he was dying in hospital, she’s involved with Chris Street, Danny Street was with Squires when he was shot, and she was friends with Lydia Hall.’

‘But she still denies that she even knew Squires.’

‘Yes.’

Butler mopped up some egg with a piece of fried bread. ‘And where’s the motive? A woman spurned? Lydia has an affair with Squires, gets dumped, shoots him in the back, calls her friends, cries for a few hours and then, full of remorse, kills herself. Where did she get the gun?’

‘Maybe Ava got it for her. I’m sure the Streets have a whole artillery stashed away somewhere. And that could explain why Lydia didn’t call her on Saturday night. Plus the fact that she’d accidentally shot Danny too.’

Butler put his knife and fork down and sighed. ‘Jesus, it would help if we were actually sure who the intended target was. I thought you were more inclined towards Danny Street.’

‘I was until Lydia Hall decided to end it all.’

‘But if Lydia did shoot Squires, then why was he saying the name Ava?’

‘Perhaps Lydia and Ava were in it together.’

Butler wiped with mouth with his napkin. ‘Except Squires couldn’t have seen who shot him. He had his back to the gate.’

‘I know. But I still think she’s involved in one way or another. We just have to find out how.’

‘Well, maybe something useful will turn up today. I’ve got a couple of officers going into Squires’s office this morning and we’ll be doing a trawl through his bank accounts to see if there’s anything interesting there.’

‘What about Danny Street? You went to see him again, didn’t you?’

‘Oh, he’s sticking to his story,’ said Butler. ‘It’s a pile of bollocks of course, and he knows that we know it, but unless we can prove the real reason for the meeting we’re pretty much buggered.’

‘What does he say about the blood on the jacket? It is his, I take it?’

‘Yes, a perfect match. Says he tried to help Squires, that it must have been transferred then.’

‘Be the first time Danny Street ever tried to help anyone.’ Valerie picked up a spoon and poked at the froth on her cappuccino. ‘And the wife? Have you managed to talk to her again?’

‘She’s still in shock, but claims her husband didn’t have any enemies that she knew of. The name Ava didn’t mean anything to her either, although I get the feeling – and it is just a feeling – that our Mr Squires may not have been the entirely faithful sort.’

‘A hunch?’

‘Yeah, she wasn’t exactly forthcoming when it came to their personal life. I don’t know, I could be wrong, but we’ll ask around, see if any of his friends or business associates are willing to dish the dirt.’

‘She knew Lydia Hall, though, didn’t she?’

‘Yes, although only through Beast. She met her quite a few times at the shop, but they never socialised as such.’

Valerie’s eyebrows shifted up a notch. ‘Well,
she
might not have. Doesn’t mean that Squires wasn’t seeing Lydia on the quiet.’

Butler pushed his plate to one side. He drank some tea and glanced around the café before his gaze came to rest on Valerie again. ‘Maybe we’re making this too complicated. What if Squires wasn’t the target? There’s a list of people as long as my arm who’d be more than happy to see the back of Danny Street.’

‘And Lydia Hall?’

‘The shooting of Squires could have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. She’s unhappy, possibly even clinically depressed. Maybe she was involved with Squires or maybe she just liked the guy, and the shock of it all simply sent her over the edge.’

Valerie thought about this for a moment but then shook her head. ‘Sorry, I don’t buy it.’

‘No, I didn’t think you would.’ Butler grinned at her. ‘Not sure if I do either, to be honest. Just thought I’d throw it in the pot for the hell of it.’ He paused and then said, ‘So what about this call, the one she got from her boss about the shooting? Maybe he can tell us something.’

‘We’re still trying to get hold of Morton Carlisle. I’ve been ringing his mobile – his number was on Lydia’s phone – but he’s not answering.’

‘So how about we walk down the road and ask him in person?’

Valerie’s hands tightened around the cup she was holding. ‘What, go to the gallery?’

Butler laughed. ‘What’s the matter, Val? Do stuffed animals give you the creeps?’

‘No, that
place
gives me the creeps.’

He looked puzzled for a second, but then his expression abruptly changed to one of mortification. ‘Ah, God, I’m so sorry. I forgot all about… Christ, I should have thought.’

Valerie, who spent more time than she should trying
not
to think about it, offered up a faint semblance of a smile. ‘Well, I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t want to be remembered forever as the cop that almost got killed by the Whisperer.’

Butler gave an understanding nod. ‘Hey, look, why don’t I go on my own? I can nip down the road, have a word and then come back. You stay here and get yourself another coffee.’

Valerie was tempted to take him up on the offer – she had no desire to step inside that building again – but knew that would be giving in to her fear. ‘Aren’t you supposed to face your demons?’

‘Can I let you in on a secret? It’s not obligatory.’

Valerie lifted her left hand from the cup and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘No, I can’t spend the rest of my life avoiding the place.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Come on,’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘Let’s get over there before I lose my nerve and bottle it.’

Outside, she walked as quickly as she dared on the slippery pavement. Now that she’d made the decision, she was eager to get it over and done with. They crossed the road and started heading north towards the former undertaker’s. Butler made small talk, but she was only listening with half an ear. Her heart had started to pound in her chest. It was almost three years but she could still remember every second of her ordeal, every wave of panic, every desperate plea she had uttered, every scorching rush of pain as the burning cigarette was pushed into the soft flesh of her shoulder. Gerald Grand’s voice whispered in her ear:
Of the woman came the beginning of sin, and through her we all die.

Valerie swallowed hard, trying to force down the fear. It was over, done with. Grand was in jail and would most certainly die there. She was the lucky one, the one who had got away. She had to hold on to that. If she continued to let the events of that day haunt her, then he would still have control, would still be pulling her strings from behind prison bars. She couldn’t,
wouldn’t
, allow that to happen.

They came to the gallery and stopped outside. Butler reached for the door, but then hesitated and withdrew his hand. He looked at her. ‘Are you sure? You don’t have to do this.’

‘Just do it,’ she said, trying to keep her voice light. ‘If I feel a fit of hysteria coming over me, I’ll let you know.’

Butler smiled. ‘Somehow I don’t associate you with fits of hysteria.’

‘Let’s hope it stays that way.’

Butler pushed open the door and they stepped inside. The inside of the gallery was filled with a vast array of animals in glass cases and domes. Such was the surreal nature of the place that Valerie was temporarily distracted from her own fears and anxieties. She had read about taxidermy being back in fashion, but had not been prepared for the sheer quantity of creatures on show. Her gaze flicked quickly over rabbits, voles, weasels, mice, rats, fish and snakes – and they were just the exhibits closest to her. A large brown bear, its expression less than friendly, was standing guard by the wall.

‘Nature in all its abundance,’ Butler murmured. ‘Skinned and stuffed in Kellston.’

‘Not tempted to an impulse purchase, then?’

‘I’ll pass.’

A tall, stooped man with a shock of white hair and a salesman’s smile approached from the rear of the room. ‘Good morning, good morning,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Welcome to Beast. Not so nice out there today.’

‘Morton Carlisle?’ Butler asked.

‘That’s right.’

‘I’m DCI Jeff Butler and this is DI Valerie Middleton.’ He held out his ID.

Carlisle gave it a cursory glance. ‘Ah,’ he said, his face instantly dropping. ‘Is this about poor Mr Squires?’

‘And Lydia Hall,’ Valerie said.

‘Lydia?’ he said, frowning. ‘I’m afraid she hasn’t come in today. It’s not like her, not like her at all, but I think she may be too upset about… Well, it’s not always easy to cope with these things. I’ve tried calling her but…’

‘You haven’t heard?’

‘Heard?’ he said. ‘Heard what?’

Valerie prepared herself to break the news. ‘Is there somewhere we can go? An office, perhaps?’

Carlisle’s mouth opened, his lips parting as if to demand an answer to his original question. But then he thought better of it. ‘This way,’ he said, turning and walking back in the direction he had come from.

The inside of the building was so altered that Valerie had no immediate reminders of her experiences there. It was only as they passed the open door to the basement that she received an unwelcome jolt. A smell, something like formaldehyde – perhaps it was formaldehyde – floated up the stairs and caught in the back of her throat. She shuddered, her eyes instinctively closing for a second.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Butler softly.

‘Fine,’ she said, smartly bringing down the shutters on the part of her mind that held the details of the past. ‘I’m fine.’

Morton Carlisle took them into a small office off to the right where they all sat down and the bad news was imparted. Valerie watched him carefully as she told him about Lydia’s suicide. The shock on his face seemed genuine, although his skin was so bloodless it was impossible to tell if he actually paled or not. Butler asked if he wanted a glass of water.

Carlisle shook his head. ‘She’s dead? I can’t believe it. She’s dead?’

It was another few minutes before Valerie felt able to ask the questions that she had to ask. ‘We need to track down her family, if she has any left. Did she mention any relatives to you?’

‘Relatives? No, no I don’t think so.’ Carlisle’s hands shifted around the desk as if he didn’t know what to do with them. ‘I got the impression that she was alone.’

‘And as a person, what was Lydia like?’

‘Like?’

‘You know – quiet, bubbly, reliable, happy, sad…’

Carlisle pondered on this for a moment. ‘Reliable, yes, certainly. That’s why I was so surprised when she didn’t turn up this morning. And hard-working too. I wouldn’t say she was an especially extrovert person, but then I wouldn’t call her shy either. I suppose she was rather… self-possessed.’ His right hand reached for a piece of paper, moved it a quarter of an inch and then moved it back again. ‘And polite. She was always good with the customers.’

Butler leaned forward. ‘Jeremy Squires was a customer.’

Carlisle made a slight movement of his head, almost a nod but not quite. ‘Yes, indeed.’

‘Did Lydia know him well?’

‘Well?’ Carlisle repeated.

‘Did they seem friendly towards each other?’

‘Like I said, Lydia is…
was
always good with the customers. She had a nice manner. Jeremy and Amanda made regular visits to the gallery. They’re keen collectors. They’ve got an excellent eye.’

And an excellent bank balance, Valerie thought, judging by the price tags she’d noticed on her way through the rooms. ‘So she would have seen quite a lot of them. Did Jeremy ever come in on his own?’

Carlisle hesitated again, concerned perhaps about the direction the interview was taking.

‘Occasionally, but I don’t see what that has to do with —’

‘We’re just trying to get some background,’ Butler said. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

Valerie continued with her questions. ‘And would they have been alone together, or are you always here?’

Carlisle went back to fiddling with the sheet of paper. He gave it a long hard stare and then raised his eyes to the inspector. ‘I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at.’