Dead Memories (D.I. Kim Stone #10)(39)
Alison realised the pitfalls of starting out on a lie but there was no way she could tell this woman the truth. She’d been through enough.
She could either fess up or go deeper.
‘It’s not something we do all the time and it’s confidential but we’re always looking to improve the way we handle the family members of crime victims,’ Alison explained, stepping deeper into the lie.
‘Oh, okay,’ she said, as the bell of the door sounded.
Alison stepped aside as a woman hurriedly produced a ticket, paid and took her dry-cleaned item without a word of thanks.
Something in Alison wanted to go after her, drag her back and make her apologise for her rudeness. She wanted to explain what this woman had suffered over the last four months and would continue to endure for the rest of her life. But ultimately to the oblivious customer she was the dry-cleaning lady without a life beyond that role.
‘It’s okay, I don’t mind,’ she said as though reading her thoughts.
‘So, Mrs Townes, can—’
‘Trisha, please,’ she said. ‘Have you noticed that you get called by your full name a lot when something very good or very bad is happening? Normally I’m just Trisha and I’d like to be Trisha again some day.’
‘Okay, Trisha, how did you find the communication from the police officers during the case?’
She thought for a second. ‘DCI Merton updated us a lot at the beginning. He made contact almost every day. I suppose it grew less as the weeks went on but Jamie helped us a lot in the early days. Helped us come to terms with it all… the horror… the…’
‘It’s okay, Trisha,’ Alison said, reaching across to touch her hand.
The rape and murder of their daughter had been one of the most brutal acts Alison had ever seen. Jennifer’s injuries had been so severe that Mr Townes had stumbled from the identification room and thrown up. That image would always play alongside any other memory of his daughter.
‘And DCI Merton did come and let us know personally about Curtis’s arrest.’
‘Were you surprised at that result, Mrs… Trisha?’
A multitude of emotions passed over her face. ‘Of course. I don’t think either of us could believe it. The man had been in our home hundreds of times, cooked us meals, taken Lenny to hospital when he broke his arm, even filled in here when my husband couldn’t work.’
‘So, he and Jennifer had been happy?’
‘For the most part. Jen would sometimes get frustrated with his lack of focus. Now and again she’d break up with him because he wouldn’t find a proper job, but she’d always go back to him because she loved him and she loved his passion for what he did.’
‘And were they broken up at the time of the murder?’
Trisha nodded and then regarded her seriously. ‘Listen, I don’t know why you’re really here. You’re not a good liar, but if it’s got anything to do with any doubt then thank you. I know the police are convinced it was Curtis and I trust them, but I struggle to accept that someone we welcomed into our home, that was part of our family, did this to our daughter. I don’t get to choose and I want justice, in the hope it will ease some of the rage and hopelessness I feel inside but I want the right justice. Do you understand?’
Alison understood perfectly. In her heart of hearts Trisha didn’t feel Curtis was guilty.
‘Thank you for your time, Trisha, and I’m so sorry for your loss.’
Trisha nodded, and Alison headed for the door.
‘You know, just in case you’re interested, there was one question that I asked DCI Merton that I never got an answer to.’
‘Go on,’ Alison urged.
‘He never told me whether or not they found Jen’s silver earring.’
Fifty-Three
Penn removed the bandana and smoothed back the unruly curls. He closed every window that had been lowered to the max to get some air into the car for the fifteen-minute journey. He had no air con and the sunroof had been jammed for years. One of those jobs that he thought about a lot in the summer but not at all in the winter. He resolved to get it sorted as soon as this case was over, because the forecasters all agreed this heat was going nowhere soon.
He shrugged into the suit jacket that hung permanently in his car and instantly felt the discomfort of the extra layer. Unlike his colleague, Bryant, he could not truss himself up in a tie every day. If he had his way he’d turn up for work in Bermuda shorts, tee shirt and bare feet, mirroring the way he dressed at home, but he suspected his boss wouldn’t like that very much.
After the revelations of the night before he’d been amused, but not surprised, that both he and Stacey had gone home to google. Once Jasper had gone to bed he’d pored over news reports about his boss. He’d been shocked, saddened and for some reason a bit angry and it had helped him understand her a little more. He didn’t have the same history with her as the other two but he felt like he’d taken a crash course last night and had woken wanting to catch the bastard responsible with a passion.
He entered Stourbridge Community Centre and had two immediate emotional reactions.
The first was to the place. Tidy, efficient, well-equipped and nicely furnished. And completely unwelcoming to your average homeless person or someone down on their luck. In a weird way, it was how one would expect a community centre to look, but in reality, they were normally made up of mismatched, battle-scarred furniture, scuffed woodwork, stained carpet and old equipment. This place reminded him of a place ready to open. The before photo. Ready for a magazine article showing tax money at work. Not somewhere disadvantaged folks could come for help, advice and an occasional meal.