Frozen Grave (Willis/Carter #3)(23)

‘Good man.’ Zoe took one and then sat down and put her coffee next to the leg of her chair. She opened her packet of biscuits.

‘Do you mind if I ask you a few questions first?’ Simon asked. ‘Some things I wanted to better understand.’

‘Sure. What do you want to know?’ She prised the top off her coffee cup.

‘What you think happened here?’

‘Here – as in Toffee in here?’ She gestured towards the window.

‘Yes.’

‘He had a run-in with a train.’

‘Was he chased?’

‘No. He wasn’t chased. He was rescued by Detective Inspector Carter; otherwise, he would have died. He ran straight under the path of an oncoming train and just knelt there waiting to be hit.’

‘He wasn’t chased under it?’

‘No. Absolutely not. According to the report, both DC Willis and DI Carter agree that they approached him with the intention of asking him some questions connected to the murder case, and he ran straight in front of the train. He even knelt down and wouldn’t budge. If you believe otherwise then you need to make a complaint. I’m not here for that. I’m here to protect him. I’m also here to take a statement from him when he comes round. Our main priority is to get justice for the dead woman.’

‘I want that too.’ Simon sipped his coffee and sat back in his chair. ‘It’s a lot more than that. What about the dead woman? Do you know more about her?’

‘I can’t tell you a lot, only that she was forty, professional, single.’

‘Why did she go in there? That’s what I can’t understand.’

‘She probably went in there to meet someone she’d met on the Internet. That’s what we think.’

‘Ah.’ Simon shook his head sadly. ‘It’s a shame people have to go to such extremes looking for love.’

‘I think it was less love, more sex she was after.’

‘Ah . . . yes. Of course. The other side of the dating sites.’

‘Have you ever tried them?’

‘Dating sites? No. Well, maybe I had a look at one . . . but I never signed up.’

‘I’ve tried them. Disaster. I either had dates with men who were too shy to speak to me or men who wanted to kill their exes with their bare hands. . . .’ Zoe flashed an apologetic look. ‘Not what I was looking for.

‘Anyway, how did you come to be running the hostel – thought vicars just sang off-key and talked about things they’d never experienced?’

‘I am pleased you have such a balanced view of us . . .’ Zoe held up her hands to apologize.

He shook his head and smiled. ‘It’s okay. Actually, I was homeless myself. I was one of those rebellious types who had everything but didn’t want it. I ended up on heroin and living in a tent; that was until my girlfriend overdosed and died and I just woke up to what I was doing. My family never gave up on me, even when I stole from them. My sister and I are especially close and she looked after me. She nursed me through the rehab and she was there for me all the way, despite having plenty of her own problems. My parents offered me this chance to pay back a little to society – doing something that I understand. This was their project. They own the buildings behind here and they fund this hostel. I trained as a minister and here we are.’

‘Bit harsh of your parents to make you deal with these problems every day when you’ve just finished dealing with your own – like a punishment?’

‘Maybe it seems like that – but they think it’s a gift and so do I.’ Zoe shrugged. She didn’t look impressed. Simon smiled. ‘I feel very lucky and very grateful and I will always help someone if they want to help themselves – only then.’

‘Tough love.’

‘Exactly. It’s very satisfying work; yours must be too. You’re a detective?’

‘Yes. Just qualified. So chuffed. I’ve worked so hard to pass my exams.’

‘Congratulations. Did you always want to be in the police force?’

‘Always.’

‘Do you have kids?’

‘Yes. They’re ten and seven – two boys. I’m a single parent.’ Zoe didn’t know why she told him that. It must be because he had one of those faces that said: ‘Tell me your troubles.’

‘So who’s looking after them now?’

‘My mum helps me loads. I try not to take advantage but she’s my saviour.’ As she said it, she looked at him and blushed. ‘Not literally, of course.’

He laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I know what you mean.’

‘My mum’s religious – she goes to church – well, she did.’

‘I understand. Everyone has busy lives.’ He smiled.

‘No – I mean, she hasn’t since Dad died.’

‘Oh, I see. That’s a pity.’

‘It’s more than that for Mum – it’s a devastation. It’s a massive loss – her faith has just disappeared and exactly at the time when she needed it most.’

She stopped talking as a trolley went past with a patient on it and surrounded by medical staff.

‘It’s busy here – twenty-four-seven, isn’t it?’