Daisy in Chains(81)

Maggie has been awake for several hours, has taken a walk around the waking city and breakfasted on salty, creamy eggs Benedict that made her feel slightly ill. She will leave in an hour. Until then – the phone is ringing.

‘Good morning, Miss Rose, this is the front desk. There are three gentlemen here to see you.’

She didn’t expect them quite so soon. Nor that three of them would come. Feeling that frisson of excitement that tells her a plan is going better than anticipated, she checks the room and carries her overnight bag down to reception. They are in an alcove of the lounge area, drinking coffee. She has a second to study them before they spot her.

‘Good morning, Oliver.’

The three men stand as she approaches. Not out of politeness, the looks on their faces tell her that, but in a rather feeble male attempt at intimidation. No one offers to shake her hand.

The smell of successful male is very strong, a combination of expensive aftershave, coffee and last night’s alcohol. One of them is very tall, his dark hair more than half silver now. The other is shorter, making up for his lack of height with extra girth. She ignores Pearson and speaks to the other two. ‘Simon, Chris, good to see you. Is Warwick running late?’

‘Warwick’s in Scotland.’ Pearson looks down his nose at her. ‘We didn’t even bother calling him.’

They think they can bully her with nothing more than physical presence, these men. They think an extra few stone in bone, fat and muscle will be all it takes. ‘Whereas you just had a fairly easy drive over the Severn Bridge.’ She deals with Simon Doggett first. He still plays rugby, she sees, but he favours his right leg when he stands. Repeatedly turning out as front row, bearing the weight of several large blokes, has done some serious damage to his left knee.

‘And you’re in Gloucester, I believe, Chris?’ The tall man is in better shape. ‘You picked a good field. Orthopaedics is a growth area.’

She sits in the nearest armchair and they do the same. They look like a business meeting. She could be the slightly quirky sales rep, trying to persuade three senior doctors to buy a new and expensive drug.

‘Oh, don’t look so wary, boys. I checked the medical register to find out where you’re all based. And I found your photographs in a Magdalen College yearbook. None of you have changed so much as to be unrecognizable. I’m not a witch, just a good investigator. Now, who’d like to start?’

‘This is the only time we’re going to talk to you without lawyers present,’ Pearson tells her.

This makes her smile. ‘A lawyer is present. Me.’

‘What do you want from us, exactly?’ asks Doggett.

‘I want to know where you all were on 6 July 2013, 11 September 2013, and 4 November of that year. Those were the dates the three women disappeared. Oh, and better let me know where you were on 8 June 2012, when Zoe Sykes vanished. Just until we rule her out.’

All three stare at her. Pearson voices their thoughts. ‘Are you insane?’

It is possible she might actually enjoy this. ‘When I’ve found evidence of the business you set up all those years ago, James Laurence’s testimony about you will suddenly become much more credible. Then we have five potentially dangerous, predatory men, not just one. It seems a little far-fetched to imagine you worked together to kill Zoe, Jessie, Chloe and Myrtle, so your alibis, or lack of them, should point me in the right direction.’

Simon Doggett stands up and practically spits his last mouthful of coffee at Oliver. ‘She’s an absolute fruitcake. I can’t believe you dragged me from Newport for this.’

‘Which of you killed Daisy?’ Maggie looks from one to the next, seeing the sweat break out on Easton’s temples, the red veins in Pearson’s cheeks glow a little brighter. ‘Because I don’t believe it was Hamish. He was fond of her. And he was with her that night, wasn’t he? She was there when you came to his house in the middle of the night. You probably didn’t know, Hamish thought she was asleep, but she heard what you were saying. She knew what happened to the girl in Warwick’s room. I think she threatened to go to the police and you had to shut her up.’

They are staring at her the way they might watch a dog tear apart a rabbit, the way they might look after slowing down to pass a road traffic accident, repulsed but fascinated at the same time. She has become the human equivalent of roadkill.

‘But you knew you’d never get away with two dead women in one night, so Daisy had to disappear. The only thing I’m not sure about is whether you were all involved, or just some of you. I’m certain Hamish wasn’t, though, because he thinks she’s still alive. He wants me to find her.’

While she’s been talking, they’ve risen, one by one. They want to hurt her. They won’t, though, not here. The veneer of civilization clings to them like burnt jam to the side of a saucepan.

‘Seeing as how you’re a lawyer, Miss Rose, you’ll understand about restraining orders,’ says Easton.

Maggie smiles.

‘I shall be applying for one and I advise the others to do the same. And I’ll be lodging a complaint against you at the bar.’

‘I wouldn’t have the reputation I have without a few complaints and restraining orders, Mr Easton. Have a good trip back to Gloucester. I’ll be seeing you.’

Maggie doesn’t watch the three men leave. She just hears the swish of the door and feels the rush of cold air as the front door of the hotel closes behind them.