Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(33)

‘How many hours a week did she work for Mrs Fryatt?’

‘Ten, fifteen. It was a great job. Round the corner. The old girl paid cash.’

‘It seems Marissa was quite a complex person,’ said Erika. Sharon stared at her. ‘Sorry I should frame that more as a question than an observation.’

‘No. It’s okay. I’m just trying to think of how to comment on that. I don’t think she was complex. She had an effect on people around her. She wasn’t, like, academic, but she was smart, and so beautiful.’

Sharon burst into tears again, and pulled out a tissue, which she clamped over her face to muffle the sobs. ‘She… She pushed people’s buttons,’ she said, between sobs. ‘But who would want to kill her? She was always honest about who she was. And for that I… I liked her very much. Can I see her body? I’m going to ask Mandy if I can be the one who styles her hair. I don’t want them to make her look like an old lady at the funeral home…’



* * *



‘Bloody hell. What do you make of all that?’ asked Erika when she and Moss were back in the car. They watched as Sharon walked away from them down Crofton Park Road. She had a slow gait, and she was still clutching tissues to her face.

‘She told us a lot,’ said Erika. ‘Do you think she told us everything?’

‘I don’t know. She didn’t seem to hold back. Although, if Marissa used people, what was she using Sharon for?’

‘A free haircut?’

Moss pulled a face. ‘Really? London is full of great hairdressers, and you can easily get a trainee to practise on you. No, there’s got to be something else.’

Erika’s phone rang.

‘Oh, this is McGorry,’ she said, before answering. ‘Yeah?’ She listened for a moment, thanked him and hung up. ‘Ivan Stowalski drove back to London late last night. Alone. Let’s go and find out his side of the story.’





Twenty-Two





Ivan Stowalski’s house was on the top end of Coniston Road, close to Crofton Park Road. It was sandwiched in the terrace between a house on the left, which was wrapped in plastic and undergoing renovation, and a house on the right, which was crumbling and in need of renovation.

There was no answer at the door, but the curtains were all closed. Erika rang again, and a bell echoed loudly through the house.

‘The curtains weren’t closed on Christmas Day. In the door-to-door it says that there is a tree in the front room,’ said Erika. Moss peered through the letter box.

‘Jesus,’ she coughed. ‘Smell this.’

Erika came to the letter box, put her nose to the gap, and recoiled, coughing.

‘Shit. That’s gas.’

They came back to the front gate and looked up at the house. All the windows were closed, and the curtains were drawn. It looked like the edges of the windows in one room were stuffed with blankets. She pulled out her radio, and called in the address for backup. Then she went back to the front door, leant down and shouted through the letter box.

‘This is the police. Is anyone in there?’ She coughed. ‘It’s really strong.’

‘If the concentration of gas is that strong inside, the whole row of terraces could blow. And so many people are home,’ said Moss, indicating the lights on in many of the surrounding windows.

Erika nodded. She charged the door, bouncing off it painfully the first time. On the second attempt, it cracked and swung inwards with a crash, and she landed on the carpet in the hallway. The strong smell of gas flooded out, and she covered her nose with her sleeve.

‘We need to get the windows and doors open and find the source,’ she said, coming back to the doorway to grab fresh air. Moss took a deep breath, covered her mouth and nose, and they rushed into the house. It was smartly furnished inside, but dark. The curtains were drawn in the living room. Erika pulled them open and saw that the double-glazed sash windows looked strong: they were made of thick wood and were all taped shut. At the bottom, along the sill, the windows were packed with blankets. Erika signalled to Moss, feeling her lungs starting to burst. They ran back out onto the front path. Their eyes were streaming and they gasped and coughed.

‘We need… to get the windows and doors open inside,’ said Erika. Moss nodded. They took deep breaths, then charged back inside, going back into the living room.

Erika picked up a heavy chair by a bookshelf, and Moss looked around the room, finding a pair of scissors on the desk under the window. Her eyes were streaming, and she wiped them with her sleeve, then holding the scissors like a dagger, she stabbed in the corner of one of the double-glazing panes. It took a couple of attempts but she pierced the glass. She then did the same with the other two panes. She stepped back and nodded to Erika, who charged at the windows with the legs of the chair. She bashed all three open. The glass exploded outwards, and fresh air began to flood in.

They came back out to the front path, to get some gulps of fresh air.

‘Hey! You! What are you doing?’ shouted an older man from across the road. He had glasses around his neck on a chain, and was holding a newspaper.

‘Get back inside!’ shouted Moss.

‘Not until you tell me what you are doing!’

‘Police, get back inside!’ they both shouted.