A Narrow Trajectory Page 11

  But as with anything, of course, there had been a few very minor and probably insignificant exceptions – a girl so addled on drugs that she’d obviously forgotten she was supposed to be deaf, dumb and blind, had mentioned something about one of Hillary’s cases – the Lydia Allen girl. Nothing at all helpful, but he’d nevertheless pass it on to the guv’nor when he could. And one pimp, a newcomer and probably not yet sufficiently plugged in to know how truly terrified he should be of Dale Medcalfe, had been a bit too loose with his lips and confirmed that Lydia Allen had had a rep for liking the student boys.

  Which, again, was hardly news.

  But apart from that, they had nothing at all to show for all their hard work. Now he’d come to the café more in order to get a hot cup of tea and rest his bones for a bit, as much as because he knew that some of the more downtrodden, down-market trade liked to use this spot as a vantage point. Many of the girls sat in the windows and watched the London buses coming in, on the eagle-eyed lookout for a middle-aged businessman down for a conference, and maybe willing to play away.

  And indeed, as he’d pushed open the door, he’d had to step briskly aside for one of them, who all but raced out after a man with a suitcase, who’d just got off a National Express coach.

  That was the point at which Wendy had hissed so dramatically in his ear.

  Now he looked across to where she was looking, and saw a girl who looked at least a decade older than his companion, with lanky brown hair, bruised-looking hazel eyes and the familiar, skeletal frame of the dedicated crack cocaine addict.

  ‘That’s Julie Pym. I’m sure of it,’ Wendy said again. ‘She was in my class for History. And French. I always thought she was going to be a chartered surveyor! We always ragged her about that. What the hell’s she doing … like this?’

  Jimmy, who had believed that nothing could distract him from the twin throbbing agonies that were his lower extremities and the dull ache in his back, found he was wrong. That did it all right.

  ‘A chartered surveyor? Why a chartered surveyor?’ he asked. It was not, in his experience, a career choice many women coveted.

  ‘Oh, her dad was one,’ Wendy said cavalierly as they stepped up to the counter and ordered two teas and a Chelsea bun for Jimmy. ‘Oh no, she’s seen me. What do I do?’ she hissed.

  Jimmy smiled and grunted. ‘This isn’t a tea party at Buck House, lass. No need for social embarrassment here. We go and talk to her. That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? See if she knew any of our missing women.’

  Wendy paled, but managed to smile wanly and nod. ‘Right. But … oh shit, what’s happened to her? Last time I saw her was at our school leaving do. She’d got the grades to go to college and do a course. And I swear she was all set to get engaged to some bloke in the same company her dad worked for.’

  Jimmy sighed and paid for their order. ‘Well, you can always ask her about all that as well,’ he said, more gently. Sometimes he forgot just how young and inexperienced his trainee actually was. ‘What was her name again?’

  ‘Julie. And I can’t ask her that,’ Wendy muttered under her breath. But it was too late. Jimmy was already heading to the table where Julie and two other girls, similarly old before their time and also as thin as blades of grass, were sitting. All three turned to look at them suspiciously.

  And Wendy could see by the defiant and yet defeated look in Julie’s eyes that her old school mate had also recognized her. And, in the next moment, would learn that she was working for the coppers.

  She didn’t quite know whether to laugh or cry. Or do both.

  In the end though, as they began to talk, what Wendy Turnbull did, was start to get angry.

  Very angry.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The hotel in Belgravia was swanky, high-class and high-maintenance, which made it a perfect match for Cheryl Murray. In the lobby, a vast Christmas tree was in the process of being tastefully decorated in gold and silver. And the hand-blown glass baubles alone, Hillary had guessed, probably added up to more than her yearly stipend.

  In her early thirties, but managing to look a decade younger, the wife of the now apparently retired bank robber, had long, sable brown, artfully waved hair and perfect make-up. Wearing an Italian designer label trouser suit in a stunning caramel colour, matched with a silk-shot amber blouse, she looked back at Hillary with a mixture of caution, interest and distaste.

  At first, Cheryl hadn’t been inclined to speak to her. No doubt entertaining the constabulary had never been particularly high on her agenda. Which, given her circumstances, was perfectly understandable. But after Hillary had approached the main desk and shown the receptionist her ID, she had finally managed to convey – through the scrupulously polite hotel employee – that she wasn’t going to go away. And so, finally, Cheryl had conceded to her request for a ‘friendly chat’.

  Perhaps she didn’t want her parents or soon-to-be-wed sister to know that the police had come calling, and was anxious to give Hillary what she wanted in order to send her on her way as quickly as possible. For, whilst marrying a very successful crook had definitely been financially advantageous, it probably also had its drawbacks. Especially when it came to trying to make sure that social occasions such as weddings, went off without any embarrassing hitches.

  Which was why Hillary was now sitting in a swanky suite and sipping blissfully fine, ground and brewed coffee. And doing her best to ignore a delightful biscuit selection that the wasp-waisted woman seated opposite her was also ignoring but probably with more ease.

  ‘So this is just about Jas, yeah?’ Cheryl said cautiously, and not for the first time. Big brown eyes watched her nervously, as if suspecting a trap. It was clear that she was used to having to defend her choice of spouse, and it had taken much of Hillary’s time so far in convincing her that she was not interested in her bank-robbing, thieving husband.

  ‘Yes. We’re reviewing our missing person cases, and Jasmine Sudbury is one of a number of people we’re following up on,’ she repeated patiently. ‘I understand you used to know her, back in the day?’

  At this, Cheryl gave a vague smile. Clearly she was happy enough to answer questions that were apparently innocuous, for she leaned back in the chair a bit and gave a small sigh. Her shoulders relaxed just slightly. But Hillary wasn’t fooled. There was a definite air about the beautiful brunette, which spoke of someone who was used to taking care of number one. First, foremost, and always.

  ‘Oh yeah, I knew Jas all right. We hung out at the same clubs and that for a while. Knew the same people, went to the same parties and what not. So we ran into each other often. Well, we could hardly avoid it, could we? The scene was so tiny – Oxford was always a bit of a backwater. That was why I was only there for a short while. I preferred London and left for there as soon as I could. I needed a bigger venue, you know?’

  ‘But Jas was pretty much a fixture on the Oxford scene?’

  ‘Oh yeah. She was having a high old time. A real party girl, was Jas. And she really liked stringing along the fellas too. You know, making them dance attendance on her? I think she liked that.’ Cheryl’s eyes gleamed for a moment, but whether in respect or envy, Hillary couldn’t quite make up her mind. ‘I always thought it was a bit of a power trip for her. You know, making men fight over her.’

  ‘Wealthy men?’

  ‘Oh yeah. Well, I mean, they paid for everything – the drinking, the dining, the dancing, the gambling, the … recreation.’

  ‘Drugs?’ Hillary put in.

  Cheryl shrugged and smiled. ‘Oh, I dare say. But I never did that sort of thing,’ she said with a perfectly straight face.

  ‘Of course not,’ Hillary agreed, also keeping her own face perfectly straight. ‘But Jas did?’

  ‘Oh yeah. I could see she was really starting to get into it. I warned her, mind. Don’t think I didn’t,’ Cheryl said, trying to look concerned, but somehow merely looking puzzled. ‘I mean, I told her straight – doing a line or two at a party is one
thing. But getting really hooked?’ She shook her artful, lush head of hair. ‘That’s a mug’s game. But you know some people just won’t be told.’

  ‘She thought she could handle it?’

  ‘Oh yeah, but of course, she couldn’t. Nobody can, can they? That’s why I was so careful.’

  Hillary could believe it. If anyone was able to look after her own skin, it was this woman.

  ‘So Jas started to … spiral down?’

  Cheryl sighed and gave a what-can-you-do shrug. ‘She started mixing and matching, experimenting. Getting into all sorts of trouble.’

  ‘She was a real wild child?’

  ‘Oh yeah. I reckon her family really screwed her up.’

  Hillary blinked at this sudden, but apparently genuine observation, and quickly hid a wince. When writing up her notes later, she was going to have to be very careful indeed to ensure that Jake didn’t get access to them. The man already had enough on his plate to cope with, without an extra helping of guilt.

  ‘Oh? What was the problem, do you think?’ Hillary asked, careful to keep her voice casual. ‘Were her parents too straight-laced? Trying to keep her on a short leash? Or was it the other way round and they just didn’t give a damn?’

  Cheryl shrugged, clearly bored by the subject already. But then, Hillary got the feeling Cheryl was quickly bored with any subject that didn’t have Cheryl at the centre of it.

  ‘Oh, I dunno,’ she said crossly. ‘She had a stepmum of course, and I thought at first that that might be at the back of it. I mean.’ Cheryl waved a vague hand in the air, and the huge diamond ring on one of her fingers caught the overhead lighting and shot off prisms of rainbow colours. ‘Who wants a stepmother? It’s so naff, right? Who can be doing with it?’ She paused, frowned slightly, then shrugged. ‘But apparently Jas got on all right with her. From what she said, anyway.’

  ‘It was her father who objected to her lifestyle, then? Did he ever cause her any real trouble?’

  Cheryl shrugged. ‘Well, he wasn’t happy about it, I dare say. But I never clapped eyes on the bloke and Jas never complained about him.’ Suddenly her lips twitched in what was definitely a not very nice smile. ‘No, I reckon it was her brother that caused her the most angst. He was certainly the one she talked about the most.’ For a moment Cheryl frowned, looking almost interested. ‘None of us could never make out whether she loved him or hated him. To hear her talk he could be the greatest thing since sliced bread – you know, he made a lot of money young, apparently.’ Cheryl looked briefly chagrined. ‘All us girls wanted to meet him, since to hear her talk he was as gorgeous as George Clooney, but younger. Well, you can imagine what we were all like. All us young girls, anxious to hook a big fish,’ she laughed. ‘But Jas knew what we’d have done, so she kept him to herself. She was savvy like that. Really savvy. She wouldn’t ever invite him to any of the parties we went to. But sometimes she’d bad-mouth him something rotten – said he was a liar, and a cheat and a real let-down.’ Cheryl shrugged. ‘But that was just Jas. She never was exactly consistent.’

  ‘You heard what eventually happened to her?’

  ‘What? About her going on the game, you mean? Yeah, I did. Mind you, I was in London by then. I’d just met Larry.’

  But Hillary wasn’t interested in her great romance with her gangster lover, and kept her firmly on track.

  ‘Did that surprise you? Jas becoming an escort?’

  ‘Nah, not really. You get a drug habit, you need to pay for it. How else is a girl gonna do that?’

  ‘But her family had money,’ Hillary pointed out. ‘Didn’t you expect them to come through for her?’

  Cheryl frowned, clearly never having considered that. She thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. ‘Her brother had money. Not her parents, so much.’

  ‘Even so. Surely he’d have kept her in funds. From what you said, it sounds as if they were close.’ From what she’d learned from Jake, Hillary knew that he’d been too wise to help his sister feed her habit. But Cheryl wouldn’t have known that, and for all her unattractive, self-serving attitude, she had clearly been an observant and intelligent onlooker. And she desperately wanted to know what her take on it all had been.

  Cheryl sighed. She was fidgeting about on the chair, clearly wishing that the interview was over, but Hillary wasn’t in any hurry. Instead she just looked back at her, patiently waiting.

  Cheryl sighed again and forced her mind to the task in hand. After a moment’s reflection, she said slowly, ‘You know, I don’t think Jas would have been keen on that. On asking her brother for help, I mean.’

  ‘Oh, come on! A junkie won’t turn down any source of income if it means ensuring the next fix,’ Hillary said scornfully.

  ‘Oh yeah. I dare say. When it got really bad,’ Cheryl instantly conceded. ‘But in the early days, when I knew her, I got the feeling that she’d rather crawl over cut glass than ask her gorgeous, rich brother for anything. You ask me, she was a bit …’ Cheryl twirled a finger around her temple. ‘You know, a bit twisted up about him.’

  Hillary felt herself tense and forced herself to look casual. ‘Give me an example.’

  Cheryl shook her head. ‘It’s hard to explain. I mean, like you know they weren’t really related or anything. Not by blood – and yet they grew up together like a proper brother and sister, but the look in her eye when she talked about him sometimes made me wonder what was going on in her head.’

  Hillary nodded. Now she was definitely going to have to make sure she locked up her notes somewhere safe. And she’d better not keep them on a computer file, either – Jake was a little too handy with the old hacking skills for her liking. From now on, it would be hard copies only. If Jake ever got to read the sort of stuff that was being said about someone he regarded as his little sister, he’d probably need the services of a good shrink for months to come. If not years.

  ‘She fancied him, you mean?’ Hillary said bluntly.

  ‘Oh yeah. Like crazy. Real love-hate shit, stuff like that.’

  ‘Do you think they were an item?’ Hillary asked, curious to hear an outsider’s view on the siblings. She herself had no doubts that any romantic relationship between them could only have existed in Jasmine’s head, but she felt the tension creeping back into her gut as she waited for Cheryl’s verdict.

  ‘Oh no. At first I thought so, but as I got to know Jas better, I changed my mind.’

  Hillary discreetly let out a long slow breath of relief, and said mildly, ‘She was a liar then?’

  ‘Oh yeah. Totally – she was good at it, too,’ Cheryl agreed with a casual grin. ‘But it wasn’t that so much. I mean, we were all liars in our own way – everyone on the scene was the same. Men lied about being married. Girls lied about not having had boob jobs done. It was just how it was. It’s like we were all playing a role – which is more art than actual lying, right?’

  Hillary blinked, but wisely remained silent.

  ‘And Jas did it as well as anyone. No, it was just… . I got the feeling she was … I dunno. Too excitable. Too ambitious. Too …’ Cheryl paused and then shrugged. ‘I dunno. I can’t really explain it. I just steered well clear of her. She was like a train wreck about to happen, you know? Fascinating to watch, in a sick kind of way. But not something you wanted to get in the way of.’

  ‘So you weren’t surprised when she went missing?’

  ‘Until you showed up, I didn’t know that she had,’ Cheryl shot back. ‘I was in London by then, like I said. I lost touch with the old gang.’

  In other words, Hillary interpreted quickly, they were no longer of use to her, and thus were of no consequence.

  ‘Did you know Dale Medcalfe?’ Hillary asked brutally, and instantly Cheryl’s face closed down. A shutter seemed to almost physically slam down behind the big beautiful brown eyes. It didn’t take a genius to see that the question bothered her. A lot.

  ‘Sure, I knew who he was. But I never had anything to do with him,’ she said coldly. ‘He wa
s dangerous. I kept well out of his way. In fact, one of the reasons I wanted to get away to London was to avoid him and that gang of thugs of his. No way was I going to be recruited by him! He had a way of not taking “no” for an answer. Is that what happened to Jas? He got his paws on her? Poor cow.’

  Hillary nodded. And sighed. Curiously enough, she believed Cheryl when she said she’d avoided Dale Medcalfe and his outfit. With anyone else, she might have thought that they were lying. After all, the kind of life that Cheryl had been leading back then was almost guaranteed to ensure that their paths would cross regularly. But Cheryl was clearly the sort of girl who’d had her big, brown, and savvy eyes wide open, even back then, when she was nothing more than an ambitious teenager. And she’d obviously quickly learned how to navigate the shark-infested waters without getting bitten.

  Time to try a different tack. ‘Was there anyone back then that Jas was particularly close to?’

  ‘What? A boyfriend, you mean?’

  ‘Boyfriend, sure, or any female friends?’ Hillary wasn’t fussy.

  ‘Nah. Jas had a lot of men on a string, like I said, but I think with her, she was totally strung up on big brother. So that pretty much ruled out any real significant male in her life. And Jas just wasn’t the kind to share with other women, you know? I mean, she was friendly enough with the girls on the scene, but she was never the type to share secrets or get all girly and BFF with anyone.’

  Hillary sighed. Great. Another dead end.

  ‘So you have no idea who she might have turned to – for a place to crash, or for someone to lend her a helping hand if she really needed it?’

  ‘Nah. Sorry.’ Cheryl Murray opened her big brown eyes extra wide. ‘We just weren’t that kind of crowd, you know?’

  Hillary did.

  Back at HQ, Wendy and Jimmy were back in the communal office and busily typing up reports on their fruitless trawl of Oxford’s mean streets. Wendy, it had to be said, was faster on the keyboard than the ex-sergeant. But it was Jimmy who noticed Hillary first and looked up as she poked her head around the door.