The Kate Redman Mysteries Volume 5: The Kate Redman Mysteries, #5

By Celina Grace

Performance (A Kate Redman Mystery: Book 13)

 

The strangled body of a young woman is discovered in a park in the West Country town of Abbeyford, clad in a leopard skin coat but with no identification, no phone, no handbag. DI Kate Redman and her team take on the case and manage to identify the victim through her role in a local theatre production.

 

But the questions keep coming: why was the victim estranged from her family? Who was the shadowy boyfriend she was hiding from her friends? And as Kate and her colleagues know from experience, plenty of people could be hiding many secrets…

 

Hunt (A Kate Redman Mystery: Book 14)

 

Detective Inspector Mark Olbeck and his partner have their day rudely interrupted when they witness a group of men attacking another in the street. Arrests are made but DI Kate Redman and the other officers of the Abbeyford police force are intrigued by their motive.

The dark side of vigilantism is revealed when a body is found, and the laptop of the victim reveals some true horror. But is this a simple case of a paedophile hunter's quest gone wrong? Or is there something more to this murder?
 

Who is the real victim here? Kate, already struggling with a life-changing decision, has to draw on all her experience, wisdom and courage as she and her colleagues hunt a ruthless killer…

 

Muse (A Kate Redman Mystery: Book 15)

 

Abbeyford, in the West Country of England, is supposed to be a safe and pleasant place to live. But no fewer than four young women have gone missing in the past few years and now another, nineteen-year-old art student Mae Denton, has disappeared.

 

DI Kate Redman is eager to tie up any loose ends before she goes on maternity leave. But as the case unfolds, a straightforward disappearance becomes more complicated. Who was the mysterious man whom Mae was apparently seeing, and do her friends know more than they are telling? Has she vanished for her own reasons? And who, if anyone, can Kate and her team trust?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Isaro Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Dec 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223989714

Book preview

The Kate Redman Mystery Series

In chronological order

Hushabye

Requiem

Imago

Snarl

Chimera

Joy (a short story)

Echo

Creed

Sanctuary

Valentine (a novella)

Siren

Pulse

Descent (a novella)

Fury

Tasteful (a novella)

Scimitar

Performance*

Hunt*

Muse*

*included in this volume

Performance

A Kate Redman Mystery: Book 13

Celina Grace

Author’s Note

This book has taken an unfeasibly long time for me to write.

But then, I’ve never written a book in a deadly global pandemic before, so perhaps I shouldn’t beat myself up about it. I had Covid last year and was then unlucky enough to get long Covid, so dealing with that, plus multiple lockdowns, and having to home school two children with special needs, along with all the other crap that life throws at us, meant that creativity and inspiration were in short supply!

Anyway, I decided not to reference the pandemic in this book. I read fiction to escape, and I wanted that for my readers too. I’m not sure what will happen in later Kate books but if you have any thoughts, drop me an email or contact me on Facebook and let me know what you think.

Stay safe and happy :)

Celina Grace

Prologue

Jean Weston watched her dog’s tail wag pendulously as he trotted ahead of her through the park, his paw prints leaving a trail of dark patches in the dew that silvered the grass. Above her, the pale, birds-egg blue sky was wisped here and there with white clouds. The sun already had some strength in it and Jean wished she’d left her fleece at home. But this was April, not high summer, so she’d just automatically thrown it on.

There were a few other people in the park, mostly runners and dog-walkers like herself. Jean lifted a hand to the man with the black Labrador, whom she vaguely knew. He waved back and began to turn towards her, but Jean, not in the mood for early morning small-talk, subtly veered her direction to walk to the more private areas of the park.

Atherton Park was one of the larger public spaces in the market town of Abbeyford; many rolling acres of grassy spaces and wildlife meadows, and wooded areas of what Jean thought was probably quite ancient forest. Abbeyford itself was at heart a medieval town and some of the more gnarled oaks in the woods looked as though they could date back almost to that time. Jean put a hand out to one, running her fingers over the fur-like moss that coated its thick trunk. The trees were just coming into leaf, sporting that fresh incomparable green that lasted such a short time before darkening. This was the best time of the year, Jean thought, and how nice it was to be able to enjoy it. It had only been a year since she’d retired from her teaching job, but it felt like much longer.

Harry, who she’d adopted once she knew she was no longer going to be shut up in a classroom all day, tracked scents across the bracken and path, dashing back and forth in front of her. Jean regarded him with a fond smile. He was certainly nothing to look at, being an uncertain mix of what was probably Staffie, Collie and Jack Russell, but he was an amiable companion.

As she watched, Harry turned and veered into the woods, disappearing behind shrubbery and fresh green bracken fronds. Jean stopped walking and waited for him, turning her face up to the strengthening rays of the sun. Harry, who was heavy for a little dog, crashed and crackled through the undergrowth. Probably found a rabbit trail, thought Jean. She hoped the rabbit would get away, although to be fair, he’d never once caught a rabbit since she’d had him.

After two minutes, Jean started to get a bit impatient. A cup of tea and a loo visit was definitely on her mind. She patted her pocket for the dog treats.

Harry! Come here, boy.

Normally, the packet rustling would have brought him back at a lolloping run. Jean frowned and called him again, rustling for all she was worth, but there was silence from the woods. Then Harry barked, just once.

Jean frowned. She’d have to go in and retrieve him, getting soaking wet with dew as she did so. Oh well, at least she was wearing wellies. She began to climb as best she could over the undergrowth, muttering Bloody dog, under her breath as a bramble caught at her trousers. She called him again, trying to ascertain his position.

Up ahead there was a thinning of the undergrowth, and Jean could see Harry’s black and white back, nosing at something on the ground. Jean stared. It was something big and furry. A dead deer? But the colour was all wrong; the fur was splotched in yellow and gold. Jean pushed aside a branch and saw what was there more clearly. Her hand flew to her mouth to cover the horrified gasp that emerged.

A young woman in a leopard-print coat lay on the forest floor, legs curled up and arms flung wide. At first glance, she could have been sleeping but then Jean, shaking all over, saw the marks on her neck and the stillness of her ribcage. Aghast, all Jean could do for a moment was stand there, hands up to her face, looking at the dead young woman, whose bright blond hair was matted with rotten leaves.

Chapter One

Where do you want these? Anderton set the box of books on the table with an audible groan.

Um…the living room?

I didn’t realise you had quite so many bloody books.

I like reading, Kate said, indignantly.

Time I got you an e-reader, missy. Anderton picked the box up again. God help me, it’s like lugging bricks around.

"I did try and declutter before we moved."

I know. I’m just being grumpy. As he manoeuvred his way past Kate, he leant in for a quick kiss. I hate unpacking.

I know. But once it’s done, it’s done.

As Anderton left the room, Kate sat back on her heels and surveyed her new home. They had moved in that weekend, and all around them was chaos: unpacked boxes, furniture not yet placed in what should be the correct order, packing tape and bubble wrap strewn around. For all the mess, Kate couldn’t help a warm feeling of contentment. This was their house, hers and Anderton’s, and it was beautiful. An Edwardian building, semi-detached, with a small paved yard at the front of the house, lofty ceilings, big windows and a garden with a magnificent oak tree out the back.

Her cat, Merlin (well, their cat now, she supposed) pushed his head against her. She’d been worried about how well he would adjust to a completely new home, but he seemed to be happy enough so far. Kate rubbed his silky black fur and was rewarded with his purr.

Kate heard her mobile buzz in her handbag. Digging it out, she saw it was DS Theo Marsh. Suppressing the ignoble impulse to hang up on him—it was her day off; she wasn’t supposed to be working—she answered.

Hey, mate, said Theo. I know, I know, it’s your day off and all that, yada yada yada. But Mark’s asked me to give you a call. We’re short-staffed, what with Rav being off, so—

Kate interrupted him, trying to keep the sigh out of her voice. It’s all right. I’ll come in. What’s the case?

Young girl—well, woman, really. Found dead in the woodland at Atherton Park this morning. Looks like she’s been strangled, but obviously we’ll know more once we do the crime scene.

How charming. Kate looked up to see that Anderton was watching her and flashed him a quick smile that she hoped conveyed her annoyance at missing her day off and her sympathy that he wasn’t going to be joining her at work. Anderton was still technically on gardening leave from the Abbeyford force; he had once been Kate’s DCI. But it was looking increasingly unlikely that he would ever re-join the team. That, though, was a discussion for another day, thought Kate. She pushed the thought away and told Theo she would be there as soon as she could.

Don’t tell me, said Anderton. You’ve—

Got to go, finished Kate for him. Yes, I have, unfortunately.

But it’s your day off.

I know. But Rav’s on holiday so they’re already down one.

Has Mark requested another pair of hands? You’re always short staffed.

I know. He has, but that’s not a guarantee of anything, is it? Remember how long it took for us to get Martin. DC Martin Liu was the newest recruit to the office, transferring from Bristol last year.

Anderton brightened slightly. Well, hopefully that means that this won’t happen too often in the future.

Kate kissed him. Let’s hope so.

Come on, said Anderton. I’ll drive you there and we can pick you up a sandwich on the way.

Kate grabbed a meal deal from the Tesco Express on the outskirts of Abbeyford. Damn, she’d been looking forward to a proper lunch with Anderton; the local pub looked very inviting, and they’d yet to venture in. Never mind, perhaps they could eat there later—if she got home at a reasonable hour. She said as much to Anderton.

I’d like that. Just text me when you know when you’re finishing. Anderton drew into Atherton Park car park. If you know when you’re finishing.

Are you coming to say hi to the guys?

Anderton shook his head. Not on a live scene. I’ll catch up with them another time.

Kate nodded, understanding. She leant in for a kiss. Good luck with the unpacking. I’ll see you later.

Walking across the grass to where she could see people congregated, Kate speculated on the case. A young girl, Theo had said. How young? Please, not a child, thought Kate with a shudder. But then she remembered his clarification—a woman, really—and breathed out in relief. Well, not relief, because some other poor woman had met her death and that was a tragedy. The body had been found in the park. Did that mean she’d been killed there, or elsewhere and the body dumped? Kate inclined to the former, just because most killers who rid themselves of their victims killed in their homes tended to try and cover up or hide the corpses. But you never knew…

What a pleasant train of thought for such a beautiful day, Kate. She switched off her police head for a moment and tried to enjoy the beauty of the day. Spring flowers were emerging all around: spiky yellow dandelions, the tiniest purple glimpse of a violet, nodding clumps of bluebells. Kate had been to Atherton Park many times and knew how busy it normally got on warm, sunny days. What a pity it would have to be closed today, but it couldn’t be helped.

Kate looked over to where the activity was taking place: the crime scene tape being unfurled, the white-suited SOCOs milling about. She could even see Theo’s tall figure gesticulating at something to one of the uniformed officers by his side.

The dew had long gone from the grass, burnt off by the increasingly powerful sun. As Kate made her way to the crime scene, she could feel it burning the back of her neck. She undid her ponytail to let her hair act as a bit of a sunscreen.

Hey, Theo greeted her as she arrived at the scene. Thanks for coming in.

Huh. Kate rolled her eyes. I was supposed to be unpacking. As she spoke, she saw her friend and colleague DS Chloe Wapping approaching them from the other side of the park, and waved. She was a little surprised that there were no gawping onlookers trying to catch a glimpse of what had happened, but perhaps they’d been able to clear and shut the park early enough to keep people away. Anyway, what’s the gist? I’ll go and have a look when Chloe gets here.

Theo rubbed his newly grown beard. Kate was uncertain as to whether she approved of the new addition to his face; in her opinion, when you had looks like Theo’s, you didn’t want to hide them. A dog walker found her this morning, early, about seven am. We’ve already taken her statement back at the station. The vic’s a young woman, looks to me like she’s in her early twenties.

Kate sighed. Right. Do we have a cause of death yet?

I think she was strangled, but don’t quote me on that. Andrew’s working on her now.

Chloe had reached them. Morning, guys. She gave Kate a gentle punch on the arm. I thought you were off?

I was, said Kate. "But I was having such a crappy time hanging out with my partner and trying to get my new house in order that I thought I’d much rather come and deal with a murder victim instead."

Theo looked crestfallen. I’m really sorry, but Mark did say—

It was Kate’s turn to give a punch on the arm. Oh, give over, I’m only joking. She tipped him a wink. Besides, as your superior, I ordered myself to come in.

Theo laughed. Kate had a moment’s thought that perhaps she shouldn’t be joking around so much at the scene of such a horrible crime. But humour was one way of dealing with the horror. It didn’t mean you respected the victim any less.

Come on, she said to Chloe. Let’s take a look. Theo, can you get the search organised please?

Chapter Two

Both women slowed their pace as they approached the white tent shrouding the body. The little clearing in the woods must have been beautiful; flowers carpeted the floor, lush green bracken formed a protective wall around the circle, tree branches sighed overhead. The tree branches still sighed, but the flowers had been trampled by many feet and the bracken crushed and broken. The white plastic of the tent looked so wrong against the arboreal backdrop. Not to mention the horror of what lay inside.

Kate ducked under the flap of the tent, holding her breath, and looked.

As bodies went, she had seen worse. Much worse. The girl lay on her back, and Doctor Andrew Stanton took his samples and measurements. Andrew had been an old boyfriend of Kate’s, several eons ago, and she had a momentary flash of pride that he and she had managed to remain good friends since. He looked up as she approached and greeted her.

It’s okay, said Kate. I’m not going to ask anything yet; I can see you’ve just started. She’d worked with Andrew for years now and knew how tetchy he could be if he felt rushed.

Andrew could clearly read her thoughts; he grinned and went back to what he was doing. Kate stepped back a little, so as not to crowd him, and regarded the body again.

The girl looked young, noticeably young—perhaps not more than twenty-one or two. She had beautiful hair, thick and blonde, but its beauty was marred by the quantity of dead leaves and dirt matted through it. The dead never look their best, but Kate could see that she’d been pretty; her face had a gamine, elfin look to it. Kate swept her gaze down the girl’s body. She was dressed in a black top underneath the leopard skin coat, and skinny black jeans covered her legs.

Kate glanced over at Chloe, who was also staring at the girl. That’s surely not real leopard skin, is it?

Chloe scoffed. "As if. It’s fake. No one even sells real leopard skin coats anymore, do they?"

I don’t think so. Thank goodness. Kate looked at the body once more. There was no blood to be seen but the bruises encircling the girl’s throat were clearly visible, dark smudges against her pale skin.

I’m just going to have a look around, she told Chloe. Get a feel for the scene.

Should I come?

Kate shook her head. No, I need some head space to think this through. Thanks, though.

The air outside the tent felt immediately fresher, and the sun shone through the branches of the trees in beams of soft golden light. Kate tapped one of the Scene of Crime officers on the arm.

Have you done footprints here yet?

The SOCO nodded. All clear if you want to walk through.

Kate thanked him and began to walk slowly through the rest of the clearing, seeing if there was a path that led to it from the other side of the circle. If there was, she couldn’t spot it. It looked like some of the bracken had been slightly trampled over on the righthand side, but she couldn’t be certain.

Why here? Why this spot, this park?

Kate paused, tapping her chin as she was wont to do while thinking. Had the girl come here to meet someone? A lover? The victim looked young enough to still be living at home with her parents and Kate could imagine the frustration of having a boyfriend and yet not having anywhere to go for privacy and intimacy. Not that that sort of thing had ever bothered her mother. Kate frowned as the unwanted memories intruded.

Shaking them off—years of practice at blotting them out helped—she returned to her speculations. It mattered whether the body had been moved here or whether the murder had taken place here. Oh well, perhaps Andrew would have some answers for her. Kate headed back to the tent.

Andrew was no longer hunched over the body; he stood tall, talking to Chloe. He turned as Kate approached them to include her in the conversation. I was just telling Chloe that it’s my opinion she died through manual strangulation. There’s no sign of sexual assault, but the PM will confirm that for us.

Thanks, said Kate. Any idea whether she was killed here?

It’s difficult to tell, but I think so. Andrew gesticulated towards the door of the tent. Even for a big strong man, carrying a body across this expanse of land would be difficult. He grinned and added, But that’s your area, Kate, not mine.

Kate smiled. Fair enough. Time of death?

Ballpark only—

Obviously, Kate interjected.

I’d estimate around midnight to one o’clock last night. She certainly hasn’t been here long. Rigor’s setting in but it was quite cold last night.

Any ID on the body? Chloe asked.

Andrew shook his head. No ID. No phone. No handbag.

Hmmm. Kate tapped her chin again. Almost certainly removed by the killer. So, he—or she—doesn’t want the victim identified. Why?

Can’t help you there, said Andrew.

I know. Well, thanks, Andrew.

I’ll be in touch about the PM, Andrew said, bending to retrieve his bag. See you both soon.

Thanks, Kate said again, standing aside to let him leave.

Chloe and Kate stood in silence for a moment, contemplating the body. It was odd, thought Kate; the moment in which a dead body could not be confused with someone merely sleeping. There was a moment where the dead became truly dead. Something vital had gone; the person they were was missing. Despite the recency of the murder, it had already happened to the girl. Whoever she had been, she was no longer there.

Chapter Three

By the time Kate got home, it looked as though some sort of semi-order had been restored—in the living room, at least. The floor was clear, the bookcase was packed with books, and most of the cardboard boxes had gone. The few that remained were stacked neatly against the wall.

You’ve been busy, Kate said, kissing Anderton.

Just don’t look in the kitchen. Anderton kissed her back. No, seriously— Kate went to open the kitchen door. Don’t. It’s not pretty. What do you say to takeaway for dinner?

I say yes. Or let’s go out. Kate recalled their earlier conversation. Weren’t we going to try the new pub?

Indeed, we were. Let’s give it a go. I don’t even want to wash up a plate.

Sounds good to me.

They collected their coats and keys and walked to the end of the road, where the pub was located. The Victoria was its name, a sign depicting a younger and slimmer version of the queen than Kate was used to seeing. It was a nice place; gentrified but without losing the cosy aspect of a good pub.

Anderton got their drinks and placed their order. Kate took her glass with thanks.

So, do you want to talk shop? Anderton clinked his glass against hers.

Perhaps. For a bit. Kate yawned.

How are you going to ID her? Anderton asked.

God knows. Usual stuff—interviews, posters, TV appeal. That normally works, doesn’t it?

Sometimes, Anderton said cautiously.

Kate yawned again. Well, we’ll crack on with it tomorrow. At least Mark can do the TV appeal.

I have to admit, I always used to hate those.

Kate nodded silently. Much as she appreciated Anderton’s efforts to engage with her job, it never lasted long because of the growing awkwardness of knowing that he was never going to work as a DCI again. She did what she always did, which was to change the subject, giving him an affectionate squeeze of the knee. So, when do you think we should have the housewarming party?

The good weather held the next day. Kate decided to walk to work. She could better enjoy the sunshine and it also meant she could join her friend DCI Mark Olbeck for a drink after work. They were very close, but work and family commitments (Mark and his husband Jeff had two adopted children) meant they hadn’t had much chance to catch up recently. Kate, pleased at the thought, strode on through the streets of Abbeyford, hands in her jacket pockets. You walk like a man, Theo had once told her, grinning. I wish you did, she’d retorted.

Chuckling at the memory, Kate reached the edge of the town centre, where residential houses began to be replaced with shops, office blocks and pubs. She reached the intersection of two roads and pressed the button on the pedestrian crossing. As she waited, she let her gaze drift over the building opposite, a little regional theatre. It was advertising a production of Agatha Christie’s The Mouse Trap. Hadn’t she read somewhere that it was the world’s longest running play—the West End production of it, anyway? The traffic lights turned red and Kate began to cross. Her eyes fell on the poster again. Kate frowned. She reached the pavement and bent to examine the poster more closely. It showed several cast members, dressed in period style, including a young blonde girl. Kate looked even closer. No, it couldn’t be… She thought back to the crime scene. It couldn’t be…. She stood there for a while, biting her lip. She knew she had a good memory for faces, a particularly good one—she’d once identified a murder victim from a random photograph on a website—but she wasn’t infallible. After a moment, she pulled out her mobile and took several photographs of the poster. She glanced at the doors to the theatre but it was closed and locked, too early in the day for it to be staffed. Oh well, she could come back. After another moment’s thought, she texted the photograph to the WhatsApp group she shared with her colleagues along with the accompanying text: Am I going mad or could this possibly be our most recent murder victim?! I’m at the Kite Theatre on Bancroft Street, will come back later to interview when it’s open.

She resumed her walk towards the station, slightly more briskly than before. She could feel her phone beginning to buzz with text notifications as she walked, and it took every ounce of willpower not to stop and read them. Why were the bloody things so addictive? Kate shook her head and strode on.

By the time she’d reached the station, the lure of the mobile had become too strong to resist. Kate opened WhatsApp and saw the first response was from Chloe, who’d sent a string of ‘shocked face’ emojis. Olbeck had written Will get photographs from path lab to compare but you might be right. Come and see me when you get in. Kate sent him a thumbs up emoji in response and put the phone away, the wry thought occurring to her that, surely, at some point in the future, the entirety of human communication would consist purely of emojis. Modern day hieroglyphics. She rolled her eyes at the thought and dug her access pass out of her bag.

Chapter Four

What a coincidence, Olbeck marvelled as he and Kate examined both the poster on the theatre’s website and the mortuary photographs of the victim’s face. Andrew Stanton had obligingly emailed them over by the time Kate reached her desk. You’ve got an incredible memory for faces.

Makes up for being incredibly crap with names, Kate said, grinning.

Olbeck looked at the name on the cast list at The Kite. Anna Hart. Think that’s her real name or her stage name?

How would I know? I’ll run it through everything. Theo’s already checking MISPER.

That is odd, said Olbeck. She looks young enough to live with her parents—

I thought that, said Kate.

So why haven’t they reported her missing if that’s the case?

Good question. They might think she’s out with friends, or a boyfriend or something. Anyway, I’ll head on down to the theatre when it opens. Kate checked the times on the website. So, in a couple of hours.

Great. Go run that name and do a general search, see what else comes up, if anything. Olbeck clapped Kate on the back. We still on for tonight?

Of course, if we can.

Fab.

Kate went back to her desk and fired up all the databases she needed. She typed Anna Hart’s name in and began to search. She had an uneasy feeling she would find nothing and that, in fact, proved to be the case. No case history, no arrest records, nothing on the DNA database. She turned to Google, to see what, if anything, she could find there. It proved surprisingly difficult; Anna Hart was obviously a more popular name than she had foreseen. Perhaps it was her stage name. The only thing that Kate could find was the website of the Kite Theatre listing Anna as playing the role of Mollie Ralston in The Mousetrap. Kate was tiredly scanning Instagram, trying to find her, when she realised two things with a start: firstly, that she was starving, and secondly, the theatre would now be open.

She grabbed a sandwich from the canteen to take care of item one on her list and set off for the theatre, armed with the crime scene and pathology lab photographs. She decided against calling ahead. These things were always better face to face. There was still the faint possibility that both Olbeck and herself had got it wrong; this might still be a completely different girl to the one they’d found murdered. Conducting a police interview on that basis would be a bit awkward, to say the least.

The manager at the Kite Theatre was a striking looking woman of about forty, who looked a bit like Angelica Huston; tall, statuesque, with a long black bob and dark-rimmed glasses. She regarded Kate’s ID and warrant card with some alarm but quickly recollected herself and gestured for Kate to join her in the office behind the reception desk.

It’s funny, but I was starting to get quite worried, said the woman, who introduced herself as Jo Austin. Obviously, we have an understudy, and she’s going to take on the part tonight, but it’s not like Anna to not turn up. Her eyes were suspiciously shiny as she asked, Has something happened to her?

I’m afraid so, Ms Austin.

Call me Jo, please. Jo Austin raised a hand to her mouth in a gesture Kate had seen too many times before.

I’m sorry, Jo, but we’ve found a body of a young girl that we believe may be Anna Hart. Would you be able to look at a photograph and see if you can identify her?

Jo took a long, shuddering breath. A body? Is the photograph… I mean, is it—of, of her…dead?

Kate mentally squared her shoulders. I’m afraid so, Ms Austin. I mean, Jo.

Jo raised her hand to her mouth again and then, clearly self-conscious of the movement, lowered it again. Yes. I’m sorry. Yes, I will.

Kate took the mortuary photographs from her bag and handed them over. Jo looked at the top one and paled.

Yes, she said, hoarsely. Yes, that’s Anna. Oh my god…

I’m really sorry, said Kate, who honestly was.

Jo handed the fluttering photograph back. What happened?

We don’t yet know. We’re trying to establish the identity of the victim, so if you recognise her, that’s a big help. Are you able to give me the details of her next of kin?

Jo was clearly trying to pull herself together. Do you mean her parents? I wouldn’t have a clue, to be honest. I’ve only known her for a few months, while she was in the play. She was blinking rapidly and put one finger up to the corner of her eye, brushing away a tear. I’m sorry.

That’s fine, soothed Kate. Do you have her address?

I’m sure our payroll staff would have it. Jo took another deep breath. Kate was impressed, despite herself, at how the clearly distressed woman was trying to take back some control. Let me have a look on the system.

Kate waited patiently while Jo tapped away at the keyboard of the computer in the little office and held out a hand when she handed her a piece of notepaper which had Anna Hart’s address written on it.

Thank you very much, said Kate. Could you tell me about Anna? I know you say you’ve only known her for a short while, but could you give me any information about her? What was she like as a person?

Jo Austin looked blank. Well…I mean, she was nice. A fairly good actress, not amazing but perfectly competent. She paused and added, I think she’d had a bit of a rough childhood. Just from the things she said.

Really?

Jo looked uncomfortable. She didn’t say much—it was just the impression I got. She didn’t seem to like talking about her parents. Not that we ever talked about things like that a lot, but, you know, it was just the impression I had.

Thank you, Kate said.

Jo nodded. Then she said, She seemed lonely. It seemed wrong—I don’t know—for such a nice young girl to seem like that. Perhaps that’s why it made an impression on me.

It was Kate’s turn to nod. She was favourably assessing Jo Austin as an empathic, emotionally sensitive person, and people like that made good witnesses.

She pressed Jo gently for a little more information, but the woman seemed to have told her all she knew for now. Kate thanked her again and handed over her card. Please let me know if you have any other information, she said, taking her leave.

Jo nodded. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Kate had the impression that once she’d left the building, Jo would put her head on the reception desk and sob. She wished she could say something of comfort—but what? In some ways, this was the absolute worst of the job, having to convey the most awful news to the unwittingly bereaved.

She said goodbye once more and left the building.

Chapter Five

Well done, Kate, Olbeck said, regarding the photographs. Can you go and have a look at her address, get what you can?

Kate typed the address into Google Maps on her phone. She lives in Arbuthon Green. I’ll head over there now.

Thanks.

Great. I’ll call you once I’ve had a look at Anna’s place.

The sunshine had gone by the time Kate stepped out of the building. Grey cloud smothered the sky like a gloomy blanket and a sharp wind had begun to blow. Kate hunched her shoulders against it and strode on. She was regretting not driving to work, now. Pulling strands of hair away from her mouth, she tucked her chin down and hurried on before shaking her head at her foolishness and ordering an Uber.

Jo Austin had told Kate that Anna Hart lived in a flat share with two other girls. One of Anna’s housemates was out at work, but the other, Danielle Crewe—according to Jo Austin—worked nightshifts at a hospital and should be home. She, eventually, answered the door to Kate, bleary-eyed and dressed in pyjamas.

I’m sorry to disturb you, Kate said, showing her warrant card. But I need to talk to you about your friend, Anna Hart.

Danielle blinked. Anna?

May I come in? asked Kate, patiently.

Danielle looked fogged with sleep. Oh, sure, yeah. She held the door open a little further. Sorry, I just woke up. What’s happened?

. I’m really sorry, Danielle, but I have some very bad news. She paused, seeing the drowsiness clear from Danielle’s face as alarm began to be felt. Your friend, Anna…

The following fifteen minutes tracked the usual pattern. Gasps, sobs, incredulity. Kate patted and soothed and explained. Eventually, Danielle managed to get a grip on herself and raised a tear-stained face. "I can’t take it in. I can’t believe it."

I’m so sorry. Is there anyone who can come over to support you? Your parents, perhaps?

Yeah, I—I— Danielle’s voice was lost in sobs again.

I can call them for you.

After a moment, Danielle nodded. She swiped a hand over her wet face, tapped at her mobile and rubbed her tear-dampened fingers on her pyjama trousers when her fingerprint failed to be recognised, and handed Kate the already-ringing phone.

Once Kate had spoken to Danielle’s shocked mother and returned the phone to its owner, she sat back, regarding the weeping girl in front of her and letting her gaze sweep over the living room. It was clean but messy; books and newspapers were piled on the coffee table, a washing basket full of clean but crumpled clothing sat in the corner. The furniture was a mixture of what looked to probably be parental hand-me-downs and cheap flat-pack furniture.

Kate let Danielle sob for a minute more before digging into her bag and handing her a tissue.

Eventually, Danielle’s sobs tapered off. Kate, wanting to hear a few things before the girl’s mother arrived, asked, Could you tell me about Anna, Danielle?

Danielle’s voice had hoarsened. What do you want to know?

Well, what she was like as a person? Did she have family? Did she have another job other than as an actress? That sort of thing.

Danielle swiped a hand under her nose. Oh, right. Yeah, well, it’s funny that you said that about family ‘cos, she was like, estranged from hers. I’ve known her for a couple of years and I never saw or met her family.

I see.

She was such a nice person, she really was. Danielle’s voice wobbled.

How did you meet each other?

Oh, her boyfriend at the time was friends with my boyfriend. So, we kind of—well—all got to be friends.

Kate leapt on that. Are you guys all still together?

Danielle nodded. "We are. Not Anna and Josh, though. They split up, what, like, a year ago."

Did she have a boyfriend now?

Danielle, who had been running a hand through her messy hair, stilled. She looked up at Kate as if just struck by something. Actually, I think she did. She was always out. Almost every night, when she wasn’t working, that is. She coughed. "Sorry. But anyway, I never met him. She was…she was kind of secretive about him. That’s if she actually did have a boyfriend."

Anna Hart was sounding more and more like a young woman who’d had a lot of secrets. Kate nodded at Danielle’s words. Did she work full time as an actress? I understand it’s quite hard to get work. Most actors I know work other jobs as well.

It was Danielle’s turn to nod. Yeah, she had a job at the coffee shop on the High Street. The new one, sorry, I can’t remember the name. She works— The tense caught her off guard, as it so often did with the newly bereaved, and she gulped. "She’d worked there since, um, before Christmas."

That would be Kate’s next port of call. She was opening her mouth to ask another question when the doorbell rang. Danielle sprang up. That’ll be my mum.

No doubt it was. Kate let her go and answer the door whilst she re-read her notes, wondering where this case was taking her. It didn’t seem as if drinks with Olbeck tonight were going to happen after all. Of course. Kate sighed and texted her friend as much. Let’s reschedule, I can see it’s going to be a late one. A sad face emoji and two kisses. Then she turned her attention back to her notebook.

Chapter Six

The sunshine was back the next afternoon, as Kate made her way to the high street of Arbuthon Green. This suburb of Abbeyford had been one of the shabbier parts of the town in years past, but Kate could see that gentrification was slowly but surely transforming the area. Houses were freshly painted, gardens tended. The street of shops and restaurants that made up its high street was changing; the fried chicken outlets, betting shops and down-at-heel pubs morphing into fancy looking coffee shops, a sushi bar, a high-end chain restaurant.

Danielle Crewe hadn’t been able to recall which coffee shop Anna Hart had worked at, but Danielle’s mother had. It was called, simply, Molly’s and was decorated in the kind of flowery, chintzy vintage style that had become so popular in recent years. As Kate pushed open the white-painted door, and edged her way between the tables covered with floral tablecloths, she wondered why. Was it nostalgia for a quieter, ostensibly more innocent time? She noticed the two waitresses were wearing black dresses in a nineteen forties style, with white aprons tied around their waists, and actual caps in their Victory-rolled hair. Red lipstick too and powder on the nose. It was well done.

Could I speak to the manager, please?

The girl behind the counter looked nervous, and even more nervous as Kate produced her warrant card. I’ll—I’ll just get her.

The manager turned out to be a middle-aged woman, not dressed in Forties’ chic but in jeans and a jumper. She invited Kate to the offices upstairs, clearly worried.

Kate explained the situation as quickly and as sympathetically as she could. The manager, a Mrs Tanya Dodson, was shocked but not half as affected as Danielle Crewe had been by the news.

"God, I can’t—I can’t believe it. Anna…dead? Murdered? Mrs Dodson shook her head, blinking. I—I just can’t believe it."

Kate let her have a moment and then pressed on. I’m really sorry, Mrs Dodson, but I’m just after some information about Anna. We know so little about her and I was hoping you might be able to, well, fill me in on what she was like. As a person, her history, her relationships, you know the kind of thing.

Tanya Dodson put a hand up to her hair, brushing it off her face. Yes. Yes, I see. She paused. I’m not really sure what I can tell you. Anna was quite – quite reserved. I mean, she wasn’t unfriendly, or anything like that – I wouldn’t employ someone like that, obviously. This is a customer-facing role. You have to be able to talk to people. She paused again. But she didn’t really talk about herself.

Kate suppressed a sigh. Did she ever say anything about her childhood, for example? Where she grew up? If she had any brothers or sisters?

Tanya looked almost affronted. No. But then I wouldn’t have asked her. I’m not that nosy.

Would you mind if I talked to your staff here today?

Tanya compressed her lips. Well… As long as it doesn’t mean they can’t serve people.

Thank you, Kate said, mentally flipping her the bird.

I’ll send them up one at a time.

The first girl to climb the stairs was a pretty redhead, her face dotted with freckles like a speckled egg. As Kate greeted her and introduced herself and explained why she was there, she inwardly mused on how one rarely saw that hair colour anymore; the glinting copper sheen of a fresh-minted penny. Why was that?

Shaking off such speculations, she gestured to the girl—Clare Adams, apparently—to sit down in the chair opposite.

I’m very sorry to have to tell you about Anna. Kate paused, in case the girl needed a moment, but she seemed unaffected, apart from expressions of shock and sadness. I’m just trying to find out a bit more about her. Could you tell me anything?

Clare Adams had a faint Irish accent. I didn’t really know her. I think I only worked one or two shifts with her.

Again, Kate suppressed a sigh. She could already tell, this was going to be one of those cases: muddy, opaque, tangled. Well, can you tell me anything? Did she ever speak about her family? Her past?

Clare’s auburn eyebrows drew down in concentration. "She was an actress. I mean, that was her real job. This is just a day job—I mean, she just saw it as a day job. You know she was an actress, right?"

Kate repressed a scream with difficulty. Yes, we’re aware of that. Is there anything else you can tell me about her?

Unsurprisingly, it turned out that there wasn’t. Kate interviewed the other two waitresses who were working at the time. Both had little to tell her. Apparently, Anna had been quite reserved. Quiet, was how she was described. Nobody knew where she had been born, how she’d come to Abbeyford, whether she had any siblings or who her parents were.

Baulked and frustrated, Kate returned to the office, updated Olbeck on the little that she’d discovered, and then headed for home. The new house still, it had to be said, didn’t feel quite like home yet. But Anderton had been busy in her absence and the kitchen was now tidy, the cupboards stocked with their crockery and pots and pans. Anderton was even cooking—one of his roasts that he did so well. Smiling, Kate gave him a kiss.

That smells absolutely delicious.

Good. Anderton returned the kiss with enthusiasm. "By the way, isn’t it traditional when you move into a new place that you’re supposed to, er, christen all the rooms?"

Kate laughed. Well, it’s a thought. You’ll have to wait until after I’ve eaten first though, I’m starving.

I can be patient. He tipped her a wink and turned back to the oven.

As he put the finishing touches to their meal, Kate wandered about the house, trying to accept that she now owned it. She trailed a hand up the smooth surface of the handrail on the stairs. There was a funny little window halfway up, and she stopped to peer out of it, looking out at their neighbour’s garden where a magnolia tree was just budding into magnificence. She and Anderton hadn’t yet met their neighbours—Kate made a mental note to go around and introduce themselves at some point. She carried on up the stairs and looked into the bathroom, the only room in the house that really needed updating (she had plans). She went into the main bedroom and lay on the bed for a moment, kicking her heels against the side of it. Then she pushed herself from it and wandered through the rest of the house, the two spare bedrooms at the front of it. One was spacious, the other smaller. I’ll have that one as an office, Anderton had said. But looking at