The Girl In The Ice (Detective Erika Foster, #1)(65)

‘And what did Andrea and Giles have to say about your harassment?’

‘I apologised, I said it would never happen again and we all made up.’

‘He forgave you for killing his cat too?’ said Moss.

‘I DID NOT KILL HIS CAT!’ cried Linda. ‘I would never do something like that. Cats are the most beautiful, intelligent creatures . . . You can stare into their eyes, and I think they know all the answers . . . If only they could talk.’

Erika shot Moss a look, not to go too far.

Linda’s puddingy face clouded over and she slammed her hand down on the glass table. ‘I didn’t do it. I am not a liar!’

‘Okay, okay,’ said Moss. ‘Can you tell us who this man is in the picture with Andrea?’ She placed the photo of Andrea at the party with the dark-haired man next to the pile of daffodils.

‘I don’t know,’ said Linda, glancing at it.

‘Look at it properly, please, Linda,’ said Moss, holding up the photo in front of her face.

Linda looked at the photo and back at Moss. ‘I told you, I don’t know.’

‘How about this one?’ said Moss, pulling out the picture of Linda with Andrea. ‘This photo was taken of you and Andrea on the same night, at the same bar. He probably took this photo.’

Linda looked at the photo again and seemed to compose herself. ‘You see, officer, your use of the word probably is quite telling. I came to that bar a few minutes before closing for a drink. I’d been working here all evening. When I arrived, Andrea was alone; whoever she’d been there with had gone. She’d waited for me so we could have a drink and a catch-up before the family Christmas events took over. This man may well have been there, but not at the same time as me.’

‘Did Andrea mention him?’

‘Andrea always had a lot of male attention when she went out. I only agreed to meet her if she promised not to go on about boys all evening.’

‘Don’t you like boys?’

‘Boys,’ Linda snorted. ‘You know, two intelligent women can pass an evening without having to talk about men, surely?’

‘What was the name of the bar?’ asked Erika.

‘Um, I think it’s called Contagion.’

‘Who was Andrea there with?’

‘I told you, I don’t know. Andrea had a revolving door of party mates.’

‘Where was Giles?’

‘I would have thought that he’d left by then so he could avoid having to see me.’

‘Because you harassed him, vandalised his offices, and killed his . . .’ finished Moss.

‘How many more times, I did not kill Clara!’ cried Linda. Tears welled up in her eyes. She pulled down a sleeve of the tabby jumper and wiped her eyes. ‘Clara was . . . she was a lovely animal. She would let me hold her. She wouldn’t let many other people, not even Giles.’

‘Then who poisoned her?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Linda, softly. She pulled out a lump of balled tissue paper from the pocket of her jumper and scrubbed at her eyes until they started to look red.

‘What can you tell us about this?’ asked Moss, placing down the clear evidence bag which contained the letter that Erika had received.

‘What’s this? No, no, no. I don’t know anything!’ Linda said, fresh tears appearing on her red face.

‘I think Linda has been accommodating enough,’ said a voice from the back of the room. The Douglas-Browns’ housekeeper with the hooded eyes, had materialised and was coming toward them. ‘If you want to talk to her further, perhaps we can arrange something more formal, with the family solicitor in attendance?’

‘Linda. This man,’ said Moss, tapping the photo of the handsome man with Andrea, ‘is also a suspect in the rape and murder of three young Eastern European women over the past two years, and the recent murder of an elderly lady.’

Linda’s eyes widened. The housekeeper was now holding out her arm for them to leave.

‘Linda. Please contact us if you think of anything, however small,’ said Erika.



‘She either doesn’t know who that guy is, or she’s a very good liar,’ said Moss, when they were back out on the street.

‘The only thing I believed her about was the cat. She didn’t kill that cat,’ said Erika.

‘But we’re not investigating cat murders.’

‘I think we should go and pay Giles Osborne a visit,’ said Erika. ‘See what he has to say about Linda, and these photos.’





43





‘She’s totally crazy,’ said Giles Osborne. ‘To the point where she frightens me and many of my staff.’

Moss and Erika sat in Giles’s glass office, overlooking the back gardens of a row of terraced houses. A train clacked past behind the houses, and on an industrial estate to one side, four giant gas sumps rose up, slick with rain. It seemed absurd to build such an elegant state-of-the-art building with such a dismal view.

Giles looked as if he hadn’t slept, and the skin on his face was loose and haggard. Erika also noted that he’d lost weight in the two weeks since Andrea’s body was found.

‘The family is all aware of Linda,’ Giles went on. ‘Seems she’s been the black sheep for many years. She was thrown out of every school they put her in. When she was nine, she stabbed her teacher with a compass. The poor woman lost an eye.’