Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(13)

‘I know that!’

‘I’m just explaining to you why I’m here.’

‘I was expecting you for lunch.’

‘I know, I’m sorry. I won’t be coming. I’ve got presents for the girls, so I’ll arrange to drop them round later…’

‘I said: I was expecting you for lunch.’

‘That’s an order, is it?’

‘No. I just wanted to see you; Marcie and the girls wanted to see you…’

Marsh paused. The silence went on, and then Erika realised he had hung up on her. She put the phone back in her pocket, feeling guilty. She crossed the road to the support van, where Kay was waiting with a pair of pink and white running shoes.

‘Thank you,’ said Erika.

‘There’s socks too, in the shoes.’

Erika took off her ruined high heels and Kay held onto her arm as she pulled on the socks and trainers. ‘Ahh, that’s so much better. Thank you.’

McGorry came out of the van. He noticed Kay and smiled and raised an eyebrow.

‘I’ll get the shoes back to you later today,’ said Erika.

‘That’s okay, take as long as you need with them,’ said Kay, and she went off to the forensics van, giving McGorry a curt nod.

‘Haven’t you got a girlfriend?’ asked Erika, seeing McGorry glance after her.

‘Yeah,’ he said, seeming a little annoyed.

‘You know, not every young female officer has to fall for your charms.’

‘I dunno what you’re talking about.’

Erika rolled her eyes. ‘Come on, let’s get to it.’



* * *



A police officer was stationed at the front door. The body of Marissa Lewis had now been removed from the front garden, leaving a vast pool of frozen blood. Snow had been cleared from the path, and the course of the blood spatter was marked with small yellow numbers.

The house was messy inside, with dated furniture and overpowering smells of damp and fried food. There was a tiny Christmas tree in the living room, and the kitchen was overflowing with dishes and grime. Stairs led up to a dingy landing, where the ceiling sagged. Doors led off to a bathroom and two bedrooms. Erika and John pulled on latex gloves. The bedroom at the front had a bay window looking out over the road, busy with police activity. The room looked freshly painted, and was neat and tidy with new furniture and a beautiful flowered bedspread. Three tailor’s mannequins lined one of the walls, and they were dressed in feathered costumes, one with a black corset. A set of shelves on the opposite wall contained seven wigs on polystyrene heads, and a dressing table under the window was covered in make-up. A row of high-heeled shoes in different colours were neatly lined up in front of a fitted wardrobe.

‘Does she toast marshmallows on the gas fire?’ asked McGorry, moving to a small fireplace and picking up one of several thin metal rods with blackened marshmallow shapes on the end, which were leaning up against the grate.

‘I think they are used for fire eating,’ said Erika, peering at them. There were a couple of framed photos on the wall. In the first, Marissa lay in a huge champagne glass, wearing see-through pink lingerie. In another she wore black stockings, suspenders and nipple tassels, and held one of the flaming rods close to her mouth. The final framed photo was a publicity poster, where Marissa lay on a chaise in a silver bodice, surrounded by muscled young men in underwear. A huge header read:

A NIGHT WITH MISS HONEY DIAMOND

JULY 14TH 2017

BETHNAL GREEN WORKING MEN’S CLUB





‘That must be the name she performs under, Miss Honey Diamond,’ said McGorry.

Erika noticed a diamond shape embroidered in gold on the bodice of the black corset on the second tailor’s mannequin. ‘This diamond logo is the same as it is on the poster. It’s also embroidered on the other two costumes,’ she said, looking at the other two mannequins.

‘A diamond for Miss Honey Diamond,’ said McGorry, coming over to run his finger over the stitching.

‘We need to check if this is a brand of clothing, or if it’s been stitched on afterwards. And our first port of call – along with phone records –should be her social media.’

‘Forensics said there wasn’t a laptop or a PC in the house,’ said McGorry. ‘There wasn’t a mobile phone, and they didn’t find one on her body.’

‘So her phone is missing.’

Erika went to the wardrobe and opened it, seeing more of Marissa’s burlesque clothes. Two additional bras were embroidered with the diamond logo. There was also some civilian gear: jeans, jumpers, a few ‘conventional’ dresses and shoes. Tacked to one of the wardrobe doors were several pictures of Dita Von Teese performing burlesque, and one of her lying in a giant martini glass.

They moved back out along the landing, past a grotty little bathroom, to a small bedroom at the back of the house. It was nothing more than a box room, sparsely furnished with a single bed and a wardrobe. The bed was covered in bin bags full of clothes and towels. Perched on the windowsill was a hairbrush and some face cream. On the radiator was an enormous pair of greying knickers.

‘Jeez,’ said McGorry, holding them up. Erika gave him a look, but didn’t say anything. ‘She gave up the best bedroom for Marissa and her stuff?’