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DS Nev Duke stood on the doorstep of 9, Union Street and knocked on the door. He put his hand into the inside pocket of his raincoat and pulled out his warrant card. Ned Granger stood beside him on the pavement holding a handkerchief to his face, his head went back and he sneezed, once, twice, three times and blew his nose hard. Nev scowled, leant forward and turned his ear to the door. He listened for a moment or two sure he heard a chair scrape back on the floor within. He knocked louder this time. Above them they heard the opening of a window. A man popped his head out of the neighbouring house. He leant heavily on the windowsill. ‘Why can’t you fucking sneak about like they do on the telly, some of us are trying to sleep,’ he shouted before slamming the window shut. A moment or two later the door opened, on a security chain, and peering out was a scraggy, short-haired female, her face contorted with distaste.
‘Lucy, Lucy Waldon, Detective Sergeant Nev Duke said holding up his warrant card. He pointed to Ned, ‘And this is Detective Constable Granger, from Harrowfield CID.’ Ned pushed aside the lapel on his jacket, fumbled in the inside packet of his suit jacket, pulled out his warrant card and also held it up for her to see. ‘Can we come in?’
‘What do you want?’ Lucy Waldon leant forward and her eyes searched left and right to make sure no one was watching.
‘We need to talk to you about a murder.’
Lucy stared at Nev for what seem like an age. ‘A murder? I don’t know anything about a murder.’
‘Do you know Julie Dixon?’
The young girl nodded her head, her expression one of confusion. ‘But, I don’t understand Julie wouldn’t murder anyone.’
‘She won’t now,’ said Ned.
‘Fuck. No!’ Lucy said, ushering them quickly inside.
The officers wiped their shoes on a threadbare doormat and walked along the hallway, passed a bundle of coats that hung on a bank of hooks on the wall, a pram, boxes, bags and other clutter.
A toddler sat up to the table in a high chair, playing with toys on the food tray. He looked at the detectives with interest then with one jerky sweep of his hand he knocked his bricks to the floor and started to cry. The young woman took a deep breath, picked them up and put them back on the tray. ‘Mattie, no!’ she said, showing him a pointed finger. ‘That’s naughty.’ The little boy wriggled, squealed and remained eye contact with Lucy when he picked up a brick between finger and thumb and dropped it to the floor. Ned bent down and picked it up. Lucy turned towards the work surface, picked up the kettle and again to the sink to fill it. ‘Please, sit down,’ she said indicating to the chairs that surrounded the circular pine table. ‘Do you want a brew?’
Whilst the kettle boiled she sat on the chair next to the little boy and gave him a feeding cup that was already on the kitchen table. He drank from it eagerly. Nev relayed the reason for their visit.
Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I don’t understand. How do you think I can help?’
‘We need to build a picture of Julie, and her recent movements,’ said Nev.
Lucy’s face appeared vacant.
‘For instance. Did she help you deliver parcels?’ Ned asked. He turned to the little boy and pulled a face. The little boy rewarded him with a giggle.
‘Yes – how’d you know that?’ Lucy’s face was one of surprise.
Ned raised his eyebrows and gave a toothy grin to Mattie. ‘Because we’re policemen, and we know everything,’ he said.
Lucy scoffed. ‘Yeah, whatever.’ The kettle switched itself off. She stood walked briskly to the worktop, took three mugs from the mug tree, put a tea bag in each and poured boiling water atop. ‘I get parcels delivered en bloc, and my job is to deliver them. I need all the money I can get as a single parent.’
Ned spooned sugar into the drinking vessel she put before him on the table. ‘So, how’s Julie involved?’
‘Occasionally I have other work and the parcels have to be delivered in a timely fashion.’ Lucy said using air quotes with her index fingers for the words timely fashion. She turned to collect the other two mugs from the worktop.
‘What other work do you do?’ said Nev.
‘I work at the Palma Club. I’m a pole dancer,’ she said over her shoulder.
Ned stopped blowing raspberries at Mattie – his eyes wide. ‘Close your mouth,’ Nev whispered.
‘It’s not that well paid but the tips make it worth it,’ Lucy said on her return to the table. ‘I usually work in the evening but sometimes they need me at lunchtime for private functions.’
Mattie threw the feeding cup and started to scream, quietening the moment Lucy lifted him from his highchair.
‘There are two parcels that were in the back of her vehicle,’ said Nev. When Lucy turned towards him, he thought he saw a glimpse of fear pass across her face; her cheeks were flushed.
‘They weren’t delivered?’ Mattie started to cry. She rocked him in her arms. His eyes closed instantly.
‘No, but don’t worry they’re safe,’ said Ned.
‘We’re going to need to take your fingerprints and DNA so that if any Forensics are found on the parcels we can eliminate you – I guess you’ll have handled them?’
The young child jerked at her sudden movement, waved his arms and legs and screamed. ‘Yes, I would have... I guess.’ She stood. Mattie was inconsolable. ‘He’s tired. I won’t be a minute,’ she said, walking towards the door. ‘He needs to go down for his nap.’
The detectives could hear Lucy’s footsteps on the stairs. The little boys intermittent crying suddenly stopped, all was quiet. Ned leant across the table. ‘A bloody real life pole dancer eh? I’ll have to look out for her next time I’m at the Palma,’ he said with a wink of an eye.
‘You’ll never learn will you. One day that lass of yours will kick you out once and for all.’
‘Nah,’ he said leaning back in his chair. ‘She loves me.’
Lucy closed the bedroom door behind her. Still holding the knob, she rested her forehead on the top of her sleeping son’s head. Panic swept through her. The top man, Malcolm Reynolds had visited them at the club, and now she found out her friend who she’d implicated in this whole sorry mess was dead. What was she going to do? She laid Mattie down in his cot, tucked his fluffy rabbit under his arm, stuck in his dummy and went to the bedside table. Her hands hovered over the blue tablets in her drawer. Mattie turned, and cried once. Hurriedly, she popped a whole tablet in her mouth and swallowed it down with spittle. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and counted to ten. Soon the drugs would start to take effect and she knew from experience that she would, with the help of the ecstasy, be able to ride this one out.
‘There’s a rumour flying around that Julie had been seeing someone, other than her partner Alan Sanderson. Have you heard anything?’ said Nev when she returned.
‘No, no way, she wouldn’t do that, she adores him,’ she said with an emphatic shake of her head as she passed him. She had intense butterflies sensation in her stomach. Lucy didn’t sit down but busied herself loading the washing machine. Her hair began to tingle.
‘Why don’t you come and sit down,’ said Nev. ‘You don’t need to do that right now, you’ve just had a shock.’ Unhearing, she threw toys in the direction of the toy box. Next she pointed to the mugs on the table. ‘Have you finished?’ she asked, and waited for a nod of the head before she attempted to collect them. Eventually she had the three mugs on the fingers of one hand and she carried them to the sink where she proceeded to run them under the tap. She lay them upside down on the drainer. When she turned to face the detectives she noticed there was a glow around the artificial light and the colours began to pop. She suppressed a dry heave and leant on the worktop for support.
Nev stood and walked towards her, his hand outstretched. ‘Lucy we’re going to need a statement from you,’ he said. ‘Could you please come and sit down?’
Lucy side stepped him, opened the fridge door and poured herself a glass of cold grapefruit juice. She sat down opposite the men, still clutching the glass. It was apparent to their trained eyes that her pupils were dilated. Nev looked at Ned concern on his face.
‘When will Julie’s funeral take place?’ Lucy’s voice was shaky.
‘Not for a while yet,’ said Nev.
‘Was she in pain... you know before she died?’ she asked, her eyes wide and staring. The words that Nev had written on the paper in front of her were especially dark and bold.
‘She was hit over the head. We are told by the pathologist that she would have died instantly.’
‘Poor Julie,’ she said putting a hand to her mouth. ‘Why would anyone do that to her?’ Lucy dropped her hand slowly to hover over her heart and gasped.
Nev reached out to touch her clammy hand. ‘Lucy. Lucy. Lucy. Talk to me Lucy,’
***
Dylan was stood over the street map that was laid out on a table, looking at the distance between Julie’s home address, where her body was dumped and Ogden Reservoir where her car was found. A complex web of possible routes had been identified and were highlighted, but the chances of finding CCTV or speed cameras was down to two major roads, due to the rural locality of the reservoir.
‘Her car is quite distinctive. If it travelled either of the routes we should be able to pick it up at some point during the period of time our intelligence tells us it would’ve been mobile,’ said Raj.
Vicky stuck her head around the CID office door. ‘I’m ready when you are to update you in relation to Patti Gordon’s murder, boss.’
Dylan turned to Raj. ‘I’ll be next door if you need me.’
***
With her legs crossed, cup of coffee in one hand and a biscuit in the other, Vicky Hardacre sat in the comfort of a visitors’ chair, around the little round table, tapping the toe of her brown leather boot on the carpet-tiled floor as she waited for Dylan to emerge from his meeting. She hoped that he would be pleased with the way she had proceeded with the murder enquiry in his forced absence, and although there was no one in custody yet, the ground beneath their feet had been covered and she and her team were ready to move on to the next phase of her action plan, with his approval.
The room was quiet and warm, as was intended for more intimate meetings and she quickly found herself relaxing, so when Dylan opened the door she jumped, reached out for the file she had brought with her and pushed his coffee mug across the table to where he sat with his back to the door, looking tired, but also pleased with himself. He leant back in the chair and pulled his tie loose. ‘Thanks,’ he said as he picked up his drink and threw the policy book, and his mobile phone in the middle of the table. ‘So, what’ve you got for me?’
‘The swabbing at Patti’s School is to extend to the lower year, with your permission? And, I’d like to extend house-to-house and swabbing to the surrounding areas.’
Dylan nodded. ‘While we have the ability to put people in or out of the enquiry en bloc at the school let’s do it. However, you’ll need to check with Operational Support to look at the logistics of the wider aspects of house-to-house and swabbing – they’ll have their limitations. Nothing more from the CCTV footage we’ve collected is there?’ Vicky shook her head before continuing to ask Dylan questions on her list. She wrote copious notes in her notebook.
‘You’ve done good.’ Dylan said with a smile when she concluded.
Vicky cringed, ‘You might not say that when you look at these,’ she said offering him the overtime cards. He bowed his head at the pile of cards that sat on his lap and ran his fingers through his hair as he counted up the hours. ‘How anyone can budget for hours needed to be worked on a murder enquiry is beyond me?’ One by one he scribbled his initials in the appropriate box for the each officer to be paid, until his ringing phone had him reach for it and on listening to the caller at the other end the colour drained from his face.
