‘Did you organise the DNA swabs?’
‘They’re on it.’
‘Remember to chase them though.’ Maud pushed a few corkscrews of hair behind her ears. ‘Let’s see what we’ve got. I want us to have the clearest possible picture of Kira’s last movements, when people saw her, talked to her, heard from her; what her mood was like. Stop me if there’s anything you think I’m missing or if an idea occurs.’
Forrester nodded and sat forward in his chair, jiggling his left knee slightly. Maud looked up from the file she was consulting.
‘On Saturday the twelfth of November, Kira makes an appearance at Seamus and Barney’s party. Apparently, she is carefree and lively, but no one we’ve talked to seems to have actually said a word to her.’
‘Do we know when she left?’
‘Good question. No, we don’t. It’s as if she was there, but not there.’
Maud took a sip of water and continued.
‘On Sunday the thirteenth of November, between around ten thirty in the morning to early afternoon, Kira visits her boss, Viv Melville, in a place called The Cornerstone, where Kira had worked for the past ten months. She is apparently in an agitated state, but won’t say why – the police take this as corroborative evidence of her troubled state of mind.’
She looked up.
‘Anything strike you?’
Forrester licked his top lip nervously. He didn’t reply.
‘It’s stating the obvious, I guess,’ said Maud. ‘But she was happy when people saw her at the party and distressed by the next morning. What happened?’
‘Yes,’ echoed Forrester. ‘What happened?’
‘The next sighting we have of Kira is outside 99 Fielding Road at about three that afternoon. Nancy says that Kira was very distressed or scared.’
‘Or both,’ said Forrester.
‘Then at three fifteen, according to phone records, there’s a missed call from Viv Melville, and half an hour later, at three forty-seven, Kira sends a WhatsApp to her mother, telling her she loves her – again, the police take this as evidence to support their theory that she took her own life.’
Forrester made a tutting sound. Maud frowned and continued.
‘After that, nothing more is heard from Kira, and nobody reports seeing her. Her body is discovered the following day, in the early evening, hanging from the steel girder in her flat, a stool kicked over at her feet. Clothes are scattered everywhere. The pathologist estimated that she had been dead for at least twenty-four hours and probably for more – in other words, she was not alive after about six, six thirty, on the evening of Sunday the thirteenth of November. There is no sign of a forced entry.’
‘She died between three forty-seven and six or six thirty?’
‘That’s right.’
Maud took another sip of water. She didn’t really need Forrester for this, but speaking it aloud clarified her thoughts.
‘We need to find out what people who had access to the house and her flat were doing during that window. That is, the other residents of 99 Fielding Road, the landlord William Goddard, and Michelle and Dylan Strauss.’
Forrester didn’t speak. Maud saw that he seemed dissatisfied.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Why are you assuming that Kira was killed by someone who had access to her flat?’
‘That’s a good question. The answer is that I’m not assuming that, but I am starting with them for two reasons. One is that there was no sign of a forced entry, no one noticed anyone else in the house, and it’s fairly likely it was someone who could come and go without being noticed.’
Forrester started to object but Maud ignored him.
‘You’re right, that’s not enough. The other reason is that Nancy North was sectioned at the time she was refusing to accept Kira killed herself. That meant she was out of the way. It also meant that even when she wasn’t out of the way, she wouldn’t be believed.’
‘You think the two things are connected?’
‘I do,’ Maud said.
‘Even though Nancy isn’t exactly reliable?’
‘I think she’s pretty reliable. I know she’s had delusions but she’s been reliable about the delusions, if that makes sense.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Our next question is, who had the opportunity?’ Maud paused to get her thoughts in order. ‘Nancy North says she left the flat at about half past two, when Felix was there, saw Kira at about three at the entrance of the house, when she was returning. She then went to her flat, had a sleep, and woke to find Felix and his friend in the flat. This fits with what Felix has told us: that he was there when Nancy left, left himself before three to go to pick up things for the flat—’
‘I’ve got the receipt,’ put in Forrester. ‘It’s like he said.’
‘Good. And then he met a friend for a drink and came back with him late afternoon, when Nancy was still asleep.’
‘Gary Overton confirms this. Which means he’s in the clear.’
‘Harry and Olga Fisk were together all morning,’ said Maud. ‘Harry went out for a few minutes early afternoon, and then the two left the flat together and came back together.’
‘But they weren’t together in between that.’
‘True. Harry says he took Lydia for a walk while Olga had a quick coffee with her friend. You should check how long it would have taken him to get back to the flat, and then return to the cafe to meet her.’
‘With a buggy, remember. It’s probably more difficult to kill someone with a crying baby in tow.’
‘And they both say it was about a fifteen-minute walk. The timing probably doesn’t work but we should check it. Seamus says he was at the gym almost the entire day. You can check that as well. They probably have CCTV at the gym.’
Forrester nodded and wrote in his notebook.
‘Barney says he was at his mother’s most of the day, which also needs to be verified. And I’ll look into Michelle and Dylan’s story, which is that they were at lunch and then at an art exhibition.’ She sat back. ‘And then everyone turned up for drinks at Felix and Nancy’s flat.’
‘By which time Kira was probably dead,’ said Forrester. ‘Or she died when they were all gathered.’
‘Did you get Goddard’s statement?’
‘I did. Apparently, he and his family spent the day with his brother and his family in Essex. I haven’t been able to get hold of the brother yet.’ He nibbled the end of his pen. ‘But if it’s true—’
‘Yes?’
‘If it’s true then it looks like nobody on your list could have killed Kira. Except one person, of course. Nancy North.’
Nancy sat on the sofa, barefoot, holding a mug of green tea and looking across at Megan Hutchens, who was curled up in an armchair with her own mug. They had been catching up. Megan had spent a year and a half travelling around South America and now she was back working as a supply teacher.
‘What about you?’ Megan asked cheerfully, when she had finished. ‘Why were you looking for a place in such a hurry?’
Nancy gulped. She had already decided that she should be as frank as she possibly could. But once she came to it, it suddenly felt difficult to say the words out loud. As she described meeting Felix, her illness and her first spell in hospital, then he death of Kira and being sectioned and getting out of hospital and going to the police, she couldn’t avoid seeing the growing expression of bemusement on Megan’s face, her smile slowly fading. It sounded fantastical to herself as well, as if someone else was talking, someone who wasn’t entirely to be taken at her word.
When she had finished, Megan didn’t speak at first. She just looked down at her tea.
‘It’s gone cold,’ she said. ‘I forgot to drink it.’
She leaned forward and put the mug on the little table in front of her.
‘You can see why I contacted you. I’m so grateful.’
‘Don’t be stupid. It’s…’ Megan stopped herself. ‘I’ve got about a million things I want to say. I don’t know which one to say first. This boyfriend…’
‘Felix.’
‘Yes, Felix, were you frightened of him? I mean, physically frightened?’
‘I don’t know about physically. I needed to get away from him.’
Nancy glanced down at her mobile, checking for the hundredth time that he hadn’t called or messaged. Nothing. She didn’t want to hear from him, was intending to block him when he tried to contact her, but she didn’t understand the silence. What did it mean? What was he thinking, doing, planning?
‘Does he know where you are?’
‘No. And I don’t want him to know. I just want him out of my life.’
‘London’s a big place. I suppose you’ll be quite difficult to track down.’
‘I just want to get my life sorted and get a job. I really owe you, Megan, I’ll pay you proper rent.’
‘Don’t be silly. Just stay here as long as you need to.’
‘Hello, Mum,’ Nancy said. ‘It’s me.’
‘Is something wrong?’
‘No. I just thought—’
What had she thought? Why did she think she could rescue her mother, when her mother did not want to be rescued?
‘I just thought we could talk about things,’ she said lamely. ‘I don’t know why we never have. It shouldn’t be taboo. Or I could come and see you. You should know that I’ve left Felix and when I tell you—’
She stopped, listened to the silence.
‘Mum? Are you there?’
Her mother had ended the call.
Nancy laid her mobile on the bedside table and lay back in bed. One thing at a time, she told herself.
Maud lay in bed, tired but not sleepy. Thoughts churned. Strict tort and notions of right; her empty fridge; her weekend plans on hold; Stuart lying on the ice looking peaceful and smiling up at her; that horrible house full of people who all had alibis and something niggling away at her; Nancy North walking out of her flat, bag slung over her shoulder, head held high. ‘You’re part of my illness,’ she had said to Felix, and Maud had wanted to cheer.
In the dark, she smiled. She liked Nancy North: her spirit, her stubbornness, her courage and her recklessness. She wasn’t going to let her down. This is why I’m a detective, she thought. I can do this.
Miles away in West Hampstead, Nancy also lay in her bed, curled up on herself. She was cold and tired, but she was free. She had escaped. She would never see Felix again and she would banish him from her memory, not let him have any hold over her. She thought of how she had felt, walking out with the detective beside her and sensing him behind her, ominous; the way her heart had hammered so hard it was almost painful. But she had done it. Tomorrow she would find a job, any job. It was nearly Christmas, and she knew that pubs and cafes would be desperate for help, especially help from someone who knew the ropes. She would take her pills, get in touch with friends she could trust, rebuild her life from the rubble, brick by brick. The main thing was that she was safe again. Her fear was just the memory of fear now. The hope felt like ice melting. It hurt. She wanted it so badly: life.