Daniels peered through the glass pane in the double doors leading to reception. She was excited at the prospect of working with Ron Naylor again, convinced that his timely arrival might trigger a new impetus within the murder investigation team. Morale had been starting to flag a little and she couldn’t afford that.
Fiona Fielding was sitting on a hard wooden bench near the entrance to the station with her head buried in a paperback. More attractive than pretty, her outfit was smart but casual, consisting of tight-fitting jeans, high heels and a brown leather jacket over a cream-coloured shirt. A handbag worth more than your average copper’s monthly income lay at her feet.
Apologizing for keeping her waiting, Daniels introduced herself. ‘I appreciate you taking time out to see me. I’ll try not to keep you long.’ She led Fielding back through the double doors and along a dreary corridor to IR2, the only interview room presently unoccupied. It wasn’t until she opened the door that she realized why – it had recently been redecorated and still reeked of chemicals. ‘I’m sorry.’ She stepped back out. ‘We’ll go somewhere else.’
‘Paint doesn’t bother me, Chief Inspector. And you apologize too much.’ Fielding’s voice was low and sexy, like Mariella Frostrup with a sore throat. She swept past Daniels, placed her bag on the floor and promptly sat down, crossing one shapely leg over the other. ‘I understand Jess Finch has gone missing. I take it she hasn’t yet materialized?’
Daniels shook her head and shut the door. ‘Her father is beside himself.’
‘Really? Insufferable man. I’m not surprised she went AWOL.’
Daniels usually warmed to people who spoke their minds but wasn’t sure if she liked the artist or not. Brutal honesty was all well and good, but, given the circumstances, her comment bordered on insensitive. Then again, Fielding didn’t know what she knew. She reminded Daniels of another creative type she once knew, a soul singer who used to play in the clubs around town. A woman with real presence who never took anything too seriously, a quality she would have found attractive had she not been in the throes of a murder investigation.
‘Ms Fielding—’
‘The name is Fiona. Do you have one also, or just a rank?’
‘Madam, may I remind you, you’re here to help—’
‘That sounded like a Mo to me, or possibly a Grace.’
The soul singer again.
A grin played around Fielding’s mouth as she locked eyes with the DCI. She was flirting openly. Daniels needed another proposition from a member of the public like a hole in the head. If she had a type, Fielding definitely wasn’t it.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Can we just get on?’
‘There you go again, apologizing.’
‘It wasn’t an apology.’ Daniels glared at her. ‘Jess Finch may be in danger.’
Fielding instantly backed off, her turn to apologize for overstepping the mark. Making no more of it, Daniels moved on, asking her about the missing girl, making her aware of the gravity of the situation without giving too much away. Pulling a pen from her pocket, she opened the table drawer and grabbed a statement pad, relieved that her interview was finally getting underway.
‘I’m particularly interested in girlfriends, boyfriends, uni mates . . . I’m guessing she didn’t tell you she was about to run away from her father because they don’t get along?’
Fielding said no. She went on to confirm what Daniels had suspected all along. In the course of painting Jessica’s portrait they had spent a considerable amount of time together. Daniels quickly formed the impression that the globe-trotting artist knew the Finch family as well as anyone she’d interviewed so far. As Fielding began to open up, a serious, caring, human being emerged, one who was very fond of Jess and deeply troubled by what she’d been told.
In a different social setting, Daniels knew they’d get along.
‘Did Jessica have any special friends? Anyone she talked about a lot?’
‘She had lots of acquaintances, but few close friends from what I could gather. She was besotted with Robert Lester though, in spite of her father’s disapproval.’ A flash of anger lit up Fielding’s eyes. ‘Adam can be a prize arsehole sometimes. When he found out about the relationship he stopped Jess from seeing the lad. If you ask me, the man needs to drag himself out of the dark ages. He even tried to pay Robert off! Can you believe that?’
Daniels looked up from her note-taking, reminded of her conversation with Robert Lester, his assertion that Finch was a racist. If he’d been offered money to stay away from Jess, was it enough of a trigger to tip him over the edge? ‘What form did that take?’ she asked. ‘I mean, did he meet with the lad, give him a cheque, or what?’
Fielding shook her head. ‘Adam’s far too clever for that. He’d never involve himself directly in such a transaction. He gave the money to Jessica, in cash I believe. She promised to end the relationship, but, instead of dumping Robert, gave the lot to charity and kept on seeing him behind Adam’s back. That about sums her up really. She’s fiercely independent. I’m not sure what more I can tell you.’
‘Did Adam know they were still seeing one another?’
‘I honestly don’t know.’
‘Was her relationship with Robert the only bone of contention between them?’
Fielding shrugged, hesitated.
There was something else. Daniels could sense it. ‘If you know something—’
‘I don’t know anything, not for sure.’ Fielding took a long, deep breath. ‘If I repeat something Jess told me it’s just hearsay, isn’t it?’
‘Let me be the judge of that.’
‘You know that her mother died in a car crash many years ago?’
Daniels gave a little nod.
‘Well, Jess is convinced Adam was responsible. She claims that he was pissed at the wheel, but . . . well, to put it bluntly, the police did nothing about it. She swears they covered it up.’
‘That’s quite an allegation.’ Though she didn’t like the way the conversation was going, Daniels’ interest grew. ‘What made her think that?’
‘Please bear in mind she was very young at the time.’
Daniels encouraged her to go on.
‘To this day she remembers the strong smell of alcohol on Adam’s breath when he told her that Beth, her mother, was never coming home. I was convinced she was mistaken at first. Receiving such bloody awful news at such a young age is bound to have been traumatic. I thought perhaps she’d got her memories mixed up and, I don’t know, maybe they became fixed as fact in her mind as she grew up. I think that’s possible, don’t you?’
‘And now you’ve changed your mind?’
Fielding nodded. ‘The more she talked about it, the more convinced I became that she was actually reliving a moment she’d played over and over in her head a million times before.’
‘People drink when they’re bereaved, don’t they? That doesn’t mean—’
‘I totally agree. But Jess said Adam was distraught, couldn’t stop crying for days.’
‘As I said, it’s what you’d expect from someone recently widowed.’
‘That’s also true. But Jessica swears she’d never seen him like that before or since. You know the man: stiff upper lip and all that crap. Does he strike you as a person who’d wear his heart on his sleeve? It really isn’t his style. Anyway, that’s all I know.’ Fielding looked at her watch. ‘Will you have dinner with me tonight?’
Daniels just looked at her.
‘Detectives do eat, don’t they?’
Detectives do eat, don’t they?
Daniels felt her stomach lurch. Jo had used those very words a long time ago when Daniels declined a dinner invitation due to work commitments. On that occasion, she changed her mind and never looked back. Until it all went pear-shaped. Maybe now was the time to move on. For a moment, she envied Fielding. She was a professional in her own right, answerable to no one, confident and successful too – a woman without any baggage by the looks. She enjoyed life. And why not? If her website was anything to go by, she had a great gift, one she exploited to the full. Her talents were in great demand across the globe. It was refreshing to meet someone so obviously free to express herself without fear of being labelled, pilloried, or prevented from reaching the top through prejudice and bigotry.
Daniels felt like a fraud. She’d taken the path of least resistance, hidden her sexuality in order to further her ambition in her chosen career. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Fielding was about as far away from her as it was possible to be. And that intrigued her.
‘You’re with someone.’ Fielding looked disappointed. ‘Of course you are, why wouldn’t you be? That’s a real shame, Kate Daniels.’
A smile crept over Daniels’ face. Bloody woman already knew her name.
Fielding said, ‘You didn’t mind me asking?’
Daniels shook her head. She hadn’t felt romantically inclined towards anyone in ages and was about to say something that sounded ridiculous, even in her own head, when a gentle tap on the door stopped her.
The door opened and Jo walked in.
‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize—’
Jo’s voice caught in her throat. It was obvious she’d walked in on something sensitive. A deafening silence descended in the room. For a beat she just stood there, eventually telling Daniels she’d catch up with her later. It was a tricky moment. Fielding’s piercing blue eyes shifted from Jo to Daniels and back again.
‘You are one lucky lady,’ she said.