Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(32)

‘Why did Marissa stay living with her as an adult?’

Sharon shrugged.

‘It’s complicated. They had a bond. And they both claimed all the benefits they could. Mandy claims attendance allowance, disabled; Marissa was paid as her carer, and was signing on and getting housing and council tax…’ Sharon furrowed her brow. ‘Shit. I’ve just put Mandy in it.’

Erika waved it away.

‘We’re not investigating benefit fraud. How did they manage that, though? Living under the same roof, mother and daughter?’

‘Marissa has her father’s surname. Her mum is Mandy Trent.’

‘Yes. Where is Marissa’s father?’

‘Long gone, when she was little. He was a builder working on something in the local area.’ Sharon’s eyes started to well up and she pulled out the tissue. ‘I’m going to miss her so much.’

She had eaten all the crisps, and now was reduced to picking up the crumbs. Moss went to fetch more drinks and crisps, and Erika waited until she was back for Sharon to compose herself.

‘What do you know about Joseph Pitkin?’ asked Erika.

Sharon shook her head dismissively. ‘He’s had life handed to him on a plate, and he’s just a waste of space.’

‘Why?’

‘His parents are minted. They sent him to the best schools and he was expelled. He could be anything, and he chooses to be a creepy little loser. He was obsessed with her, showing up at her gigs.’ Sharon shook her head distastefully. ‘Skinny little runt, with a weird mother complex. His mum comes in for a haircut every now and again. Her hair is always filthy and she smells of B.O. She’s not the type of person we like to encourage, but she’s a good tipper.’

‘Did Marissa ever ask him to take photos of her?’

‘What kind of photos?’

‘He was an amateur photographer.’

‘Was he now? By that, I take it his parents bought him all the gear. She never mentioned him doing that… Hang on, what do you mean, “was”?’

Erika told her, without going into too much detail.

‘Bloody hell,’ Sharon said, shoving more crisps in her mouth. ‘I’m not surprised. They were a weird family, and he always seemed like a messed-up kid. Rumour is that Elspeth breastfed him until he was nine. Marissa used to joke that the only person his mother wanted him to lose his virginity to was her.’

Moss creased her forehead. ‘The boy killed himself.’

‘I know. Very sad, but what? You want me to lie and pretend to be upset? I didn’t like him.’

‘What did he do to you?’

‘Nothing, but he wouldn’t leave Marissa alone. He was odd and creepy. She told me that a few times she came home late from a gig and he would be waiting to talk to her on her doorstep.’

‘Did she ever report him?’

‘No. I don’t think she felt… like… threatened. I think he weighed less than she did, which wasn’t much.’

Erika sat back and ran her hands through her hair. ‘Okay. What do you know about Don Walpole?’

Sharon sighed. ‘Is this all you want to talk about? The men in her life? This is the year 2017. People screw. She liked him. She had a thing for older guys. Marissa wouldn’t shut up about his big cock, and how he knew how to use it…’ She screwed up her face in disdain.

‘Did Marissa sleep with other older men? Random men?’

‘Yes. She had no qualms about going into detail. Guys she’d picked up on the train home. Classy. A couple of lads from the Fitzwilliam Estate. Don, Ivan. It was just sex. She only used men for sex. Her friendships were much deeper. I was her only true friend. I knew the real Marissa.’

‘And what was the real Marissa?’

‘Under all that armour, she was kind. We met at school. I was being bullied and she was the only one who would talk to me.’

‘Did she stick up for you?’ asked Moss.

‘Yes, and she gave me tips on how to diet and she offered to give me a makeover, so I wouldn’t get bullied. She encouraged me to train as a hairdresser. She also said she would come with me if I got laser eye surgery. You, know, hold my hand and then drive me home from the clinic.’

‘Were you planning on getting it done?’

‘Yes… Sometime. Although, who will I have to hold my hand now?’

They gave her a moment to compose herself.

‘Was Ivan the only man she was serious about?’

‘I told you she wasn’t in love with him! He had money. He could take her places.’

‘What about the old lady Marissa cared for?’ asked Erika.

‘Elsa Fryatt? That was another case of Marissa landing on her feet. Mrs Fryatt’s son was getting funny about her living on her own, she had a fall or something, and he wanted to pack her off into a home. The compromise was that she got a carer. She turned up her nose at all the official carers, you know, the ones who are screened and trained. Mrs Fryatt put up a note in the café on Brockley High Road, the arty one. She paid fifteen quid an hour! I think she found Marissa interesting. And Marissa would milk it for all it was worth. She got lunch, and they’d go out to garden centres. Mrs Fryatt even insured Marissa on her Porsche. Marissa was going to borrow it for my eye surgery.’