Jayne knocked on the door and stood back. The sound of a television came from inside. The house was part of a long terrace with no front gardens, just a line of stones broken by doorways and windows, like regular patterns, so that the noises from indoors were hard to conceal.
It was one last stop, back on the trail of Sean Martin before she went to Dan’s apartment. She guessed that Dan had been humouring Bill when he told her to find out more, but she had Bill’s folder in the boot of her car. She wasn’t giving up yet.
A young woman wearing a supermarket uniform answered. When she saw Jayne, the woman sighed and said, ‘Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.’
‘Victoria Mason?’ Jayne handed over her business card. ‘I want to talk to you about Rosie Smith.’
The woman frowned. ‘How do you know where I live?’
‘I’m an investigator. It’s what I do.’
Victoria stared at the card. ‘You’d better come in, then.’ She stepped aside to let Jayne in, who took the business card back from her and walked straight into the front room. There was barely a hallway. She knew this kind of terrace well enough: there was always just a room at the front, and a kitchen at the back.
As Jayne took the seat she was offered, she didn’t want to admit that her detecting skills had been much less spectacular than she’d made out. A quick Internet search had revealed a court appearance the year before, for benefit fraud after Victoria had failed to disclose that her boyfriend was living with her, and with it came an address.
Victoria sat opposite, perched on the edge of her cushion. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘You were friends with Rosie Smith at the time she was killed. Rosie’s mother showed me a newspaper article from then.’
‘I was. We were close. A group of us used to hang around together, outside the local shop.’ She smiled. ‘It’s funny, because I see other girls doing the same now and it seems so childish, but we thought we were so grown up. You must know what that’s like. You look about my age. Twenty-four?’
‘Twenty-five.’
‘And how did you get to be a private investigator when I ended up working in the same local shop I used to hang around?’
It wasn’t the right time for the real story. ‘It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Tell me about Rosie.’
‘What do you want to know? She was a sweet girl. She could be a bit naughty sometimes, but there was no spite in what she did. We all do stupid stuff at that age. I think about her a lot. Sometimes, when I do something new, I think how Rosie never got to do it.’
‘How did she get on with her stepfather?’
‘Oh, him. Okay, I think. He used to collect her from school sometimes and he was a bit creepy, but Rosie seemed okay about him.’
‘How do you mean, creepy?’
‘He was one of those older guys who still want to be cool and pretend to know about young people’s stuff, but to us he was Rosie’s stepdad. He wasn’t that old really, but it was still a bit weird, you know, like your teacher trying to be your friend or something.’
‘What did you think when he was charged with her murder?’
She scowled. ‘Amazed. Couldn’t believe it. Like, I met the guy and he could do that? Didn’t seem right.’
‘Did you believe he was guilty?’
‘The police said he was.’
‘What about now?’
‘I see Rosie’s mum sometimes and I know what she thinks. She knew him better than I did.’
‘Why did you think he would have done it?’
‘Same as most people thought, that he’d killed her to silence her because he was abusing her. What else could it be? That’s what the papers hinted at, even if it was never printed. Just because Rosie never said it, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.’
‘Rosie never told you anything about Sean that would justify him needing to silence her?’
‘No, and Rosie seemed all right with him. She moaned about him being a bit strict, because he wasn’t her real dad, but that’s it.’
‘Have you heard of Lizzie Barnsley?’
Victoria thought hard. ‘No, I don’t know her. Is this to do with Rosie’s murder?’
‘Lizzie was murdered on New Year’s Day, just after midnight. I’m working for the law firm that represents the man accused of her murder.’
‘Hang on, is that the murder on the canal?’
‘That’s her.’
‘Yeah, I know who you mean. When I saw the picture in the paper, I thought she looked familiar. It’s a small town, and you recognise people. What has it got to do with Rosie though?’
‘Perhaps the same person was responsible for both murders?’
‘Oh, I get you.’ Victoria thought about that as she pulled a cigarette from her pocket. She lit it and took a long drag, watching Jayne through the smoke. ‘Are you saying your client might have killed Rosie?’
‘No, exactly the opposite, but the two might be connected. Is the name Peter Box familiar?’
She shook her head. ‘Never heard of him.’
‘Not even back then?’
‘Nope.’ Another long pull on the cigarette. ‘I’ve just answered your questions. Now you can answer mine: this name you mentioned, Peter Box, did he kill Lizzie? Or Rosie?’
‘I don’t know.’ Jayne held out her hands. ‘I’m being honest because I really just don’t know.’
‘That will have to do, I suppose.’
Jayne dug out her business card from her pocket again and handed it back. ‘Keep it this time. If you hear of anything, let me know.’
Victoria took it from her and tapped it against her knuckles. ‘Will do.’
As Jayne left, she looked back at the house. She hadn’t made any progress, except to learn that there was no link between Lizzie and Rosie. That meant that any link had to be between Peter and Sean. She just didn’t know whether there was enough time to find it.