‘Interesting,’ Ferreira said, as Zigic pulled up outside the cottage Corinne had shared with Sam Hyde. ‘Wouldn’t you have expected her to go to her mother’s?’
‘They can’t be close.’
‘Kids have to pick sides, I guess.’
‘They don’t have to,’ he said. ‘And good parents wouldn’t make them do it.’
‘You think Corinne and Nina were good parents?’
Could you be, under those circumstances? he wondered. Once Mum and Dad started tearing chunks out of each other kids tended to suffer the fallout, even when the arguments went on behind closed doors, because kids always knew. They were like those ancient earthquake detectors, fine-tuned to every threatening vibration in their environment.
‘Kids just want peace and security,’ he said. ‘They’ll side against the person who shouts loudest even if they’re in the right. Maybe that’s what happened here.’
A young woman opened the front door to them. She had Nina’s slim build, but was dressed in leggings and a shapeless brown jumper that reached almost to her knees. Travel clothes, Zigic thought, knowing that Jessica Sawyer had flown in from Dubai overnight, returning on the first available flight. The journey had left her rumpled and tired-looking and as they drew closer he saw the smudges of yesterday’s make-up around her bloodshot eyes.
Before he could make the introductions she turned back into the house.
‘She’s throwing all Mum’s things out,’ Jessica said, heading for the stairs. ‘I tried to stop her but she won’t listen.’
A pile of bin bags, packed to bursting, sat next to the front door, giving off a faint hint of perfume.
They followed her up to a double bedroom converted into a boudoir-like dressing room, with purple silk curtains pooling on the carpet and walls papered in a gaudy flock, all except the longest which was taken up by mirror-fronted wardrobes, their contents exploded across the floor.
Throwing things out suggested method, organisation. This looked more like a raid.
Sam Hyde was on her knees, reaching into a drawer, pulling out slips of lingerie and shoving them into a black bin liner. She was wearing the same outfit as when they’d visited the house yesterday, looked like she hadn’t slept since then, pale and drawn, lips cracked, lank hair sitting flat against her skull.
‘I need to do this.’
‘They’re not yours to throw out,’ Jessica said, her voice breaking.
Sam looked up at her, eyes widening, full of pain. ‘I can’t have them here.’
It was a grief response, Zigic thought. A knee-jerk desire to rid herself of anything which reminded her of Corinne, clothes which she remembered her wearing and which carried the smell of her still, as if it were the things causing her pain, not the loss of the woman who’d worn them.
Ferreira went over to her, squatted down. ‘It’s too soon to do this, Sam. You’re hurting right now and you think this will make it go away, but it won’t. If you clear Corinne out of the house you’ll end up regretting it.’
‘She’s gone already. She isn’t coming back.’
Jessica buried her face in her hands, shaking her head at the scene, and Zigic wondered if Sam had thought about her at all. It was a profoundly selfish thing to do while Jessica was still processing the news.
‘There’s no point.’ Sam slammed the drawer shut and opened the next one. ‘She’ll never wear these things again.’
‘What about Lily?’ Jessica asked. ‘What if she wants some of Mum’s things?’
Sam stopped abruptly, settled heavily back on her heels, and within seconds she was sobbing, shoulders shaking, tears flowing freely. Jessica went to her and pulled her upright, dragged her into a crushing hug.
‘I’m sorry,’ Sam said, voice muffled. ‘I thought it would help.’
Zigic turned away, feeling like an intruder, and as he looked around the room he tried to picture Corinne in it, saw a very different aesthetic to that of the house where Nina still lived. Where that place was sleek and minimal this one was softly opulent. How long had Corinne wanted a room like this? Where she could make herself into the woman she’d always wanted to be.
Out the corner of his eye he saw Ferreira moving, thought she was withdrawing from their grief as she picked her way around the dropped clothes, but she’d seen something, was skirting around them to get at the drawer Sam Hyde had begun emptying.
She dipped into it and came up with a pink-cased mobile phone.
‘What’s that?’ Sam stepped sharply away from Jessica.
‘Isn’t it yours?’ Ferreira asked.
‘No.’
‘It must be Corinne’s then.’
‘I gave you Corinne’s mobile.’ The realisation was creeping across her face. ‘No, no, she wouldn’t have another phone. Why would she have two phones?’
The question only had one answer but none of them voiced it.
‘We’re going to have to take this with us,’ Ferreira said.
Sam nodded, queasy-looking. ‘I need to go and lie down.’
She rushed past Zigic and went into the bedroom across the landing. He caught the briefest glimpse of white walls and blue-striped bedding before the door closed. It occurred to Zigic that perhaps she’d been looking for something herself – not the phone necessarily, but something incriminating – and that was why the room was in such disarray.
Corinne had secrets even from Sam, then.
‘I don’t want to talk in here,’ Jessica said.
There was a faint aroma of burning in the kitchen, two slices of charred bread sticking up in the toaster and the cover of the smoke alarm above it hanging loose.
‘Do you want tea or something?’ Jessica asked. ‘Coffee?’
They both declined, took their seats at the long oak table and waited while she made herself a drink, brewing her tea strong, throwing two bags in a mug then loading it with sugar. She came over and took the chair at the head of the table, all the energy drained out of her.
‘I really thought Mum was happy with Sam. But she must have been up to something, mustn’t she? Why else would she have hidden that phone?’
‘We don’t know anything for certain yet,’ Zigic said.
‘Come on, you saw Sam’s face. She wasn’t even surprised.’ Jessica frowned. ‘Dad had affairs all the time. God, I hated him for that, he wasn’t even subtle about it, always rubbing Mum’s nose in it. But once I knew what he was going through I assumed the other women were a way of proving his manhood. Denial, you know?’
Zigic nodded, impressed by her capacity to rationalise what can’t have been an easy thing for a daughter to accept. But it made him wonder why she was so unsympathetic towards Nina. Most daughters would take their mother’s side after a lifetime of being cheated on, surely?
‘I honestly thought Corinne was better than that.’ Jessica’s fingers went to the chunky wooden necklace she was wearing, tugging at it like she wanted to break the whole string apart, distress clear on her face before she gathered herself. ‘Do you think that might be who killed her? If she was seeing someone?’
‘Right now we’re investigating a link between Corinne’s murder and a series of attacks on trans women in the area.’ Zigic tucked his fist into his palm, getting down to business. ‘That’s not to say this man couldn’t have made contact with Corinne first – he was obviously familiar with her routine.’
‘Had she ever mentioned being harassed?’ Ferreira asked. ‘Threatened?’
Jessica shook her head. ‘We haven’t talked much lately. I’m working away, it’s tough … I did try to keep in touch but you just get tied up with stuff and you don’t think—’ She let out a gulping sob, pressed her hand to her mouth. ‘You think your parents will always be there.’
Zigic waited while she fetched a piece of kitchen roll from the counter to dry her eyes, smearing the last of her faded liner across her cheek. When her mobile vibrated on the table she took a moment to realise what the noise was, glanced at the display and groaned.
‘Work,’ she said. ‘My boss, checking if I need anything. God knows what she thinks she can do about this.’
Jessica flipped the phone’s cover closed again.
‘Have you spoken to Nina yet?’ Zigic asked.
‘I came straight here.’ She must have caught his puzzlement. ‘If you knew how she treated Corinne you’d understand why I don’t want to deal with her yet.’
‘She didn’t cope well with the transition?’
Jessica laughed bitterly. ‘She kept Corinne in the closet for years. She claims she did it to try and protect us but it was always about her.’
‘The world can be a very intolerant place,’ Ferreira said. ‘Especially to kids whose parents are different. Are you sure she wasn’t doing it for you?’
‘It was an excuse. I don’t think Nina even understands what it is to be transgender.’
The vehemence of her words sat Zigic back in his chair slightly and he found himself reassessing the conversation they’d had with Nina Sawyer, wondering if a hurt and abandoned wife could ever be honest about the break-up of her marriage. And whether Jessica was any more trustworthy. Both versions coloured by enmity, a history they didn’t have access too. More contradictory versions of Corinne to add to all the others they’d been given.
He could see the logic of Nina’s position though. Could imagine the kind of bullying the Sawyer children would have suffered in the playground once it came out that their father liked to wear dresses. In Nina’s place he probably would have done the same thing.
‘God, the fights they had.’ Jessica rubbed her temple. ‘I found out about Dad when I was ten, totally by accident. Mum had taken us to the cinema and my brother had an asthma attack on the way so we had to go back and get his inhaler. I ran in to get it and Corinne was in the kitchen doing the washing-up; dress, heels, full make-up and hair. The lot. I screamed because I thought we were being burgled.’ She smiled. ‘A burglar who does the washing-up. Then she turned round and I realised it was Dad under there.’
‘That must have been a shock for you,’ Zigic said.
‘I was mortified. I mean, he looked ridiculous back then. I remember being painfully embarrassed for him because he seemed so proud of himself and so damn happy about standing there doing the dishes.’ Her face hardened. ‘Mum came running into the house – because I’d screamed – and she went ballistic. Harry’s behind her having an asthma attack and she forgets all about him. Rushes over to Corinne, starts slapping her, screaming at her, pulls her wig off. It was horrific.’
Ferreira shot a fast glance at him across the table and he knew what she was thinking. Pulled her wig off?
But it meant nothing in the context of their case, he was sure. Nina Sawyer had reacted to seeing Corinne by removing the item which feminised her most, wanting her husband in front of her again.
Still, it was a more violent reaction than he would have expected from the cool and precise woman they’d spoken to yesterday, made him wonder what else she was hiding behind that indifferent facade.
‘She’d known for years, of course,’ Jessica said. ‘She’d made Dad live this double life all because she didn’t want her marriage to fail. And they were both miserable the whole time.’ She reached for her tea, took a small sip. ‘They were caught in this cycle of Dad trying to stop, letting Mum throw all of his Corinne clothes out so he wouldn’t be “tempted”, then he’d build up again in secret and she’d catch him and they’d fight. Endless binge and purge. All because neither of them was brave enough to just end it.’
‘Maybe they stayed together because they wanted stability for you kids,’ Zigic suggested.
Jessica snorted at the idea but didn’t explain why it was such a preposterous notion. After her previous openness that struck Zigic as odd but when he pressed her on it all she would say was that her parents had always put themselves first.
‘How did your brother take it?’ Ferreira asked, scenting the same reluctance.
She didn’t answer immediately, held on to her tea, brushing her thumb along the rim of the mug.
‘It’s harder for boys, everyone says so. They invest so much in their fathers. That whole template of masculinity thing. Harry didn’t deal with it very well.’
‘How old was Harry when Corinne came out?’
‘Twelve. He didn’t realise what was going on. But things got really tough once he was old enough to understand what Mum and Dad were fighting about. And by then Corinne was with us a lot more often at home. Harry grew up with her around.’ Jessica sighed. ‘It was tough for him.’
‘Where does Harry live?’ Ferreira asked.
‘Castor,’ she said. ‘He wasn’t going to move far from Mum.’
The next village to Zigic. He knew how easily you could access Ferry Meadows from there, had run down to the mere often enough himself. There were plenty of points where you could get onto the river and into the parkland, lanes which only a local would know. Escape routes, Zigic thought.
Jessica was watching them, fingers nervously working the beads on her necklace.
‘You said whoever killed Corinne has attacked other people. Why does it matter where Harry lives?’
‘We have to investigate all possibilities,’ Ferreira told her.
‘Look, Harry and Corinne didn’t get on, yes, but there’s no way on earth he would have killed her.’
Her voice echoed around the large, tile-floored kitchen, and she shrank slightly from the violence of her own words, turned away from them, then forced herself to look back to Zigic.
He explained the next part of the process, offered her a family liaison officer she didn’t want and a number for a grief counsellor she declined. When she asked, haltingly, whether she’d be required to identify Corinne’s body he told her it was already done but said she could see her if she wanted to.
‘No. Thank you,’ she said, relief washing over her face. ‘I don’t think I could cope with that.’