No Safe Place(Detective Lottie Parker #4)(15)

‘Let me see. Elizabeth doesn’t go to mass. She stopped going since all that with Matt. So it was near one o’clock when she got up. Missed her usual run at Rochfort Gardens. She’d been in the Last Hurdle Saturday night and wasn’t home until near three. I’ve got to the stage where I keep my mouth shut. She is twenty-five, after all. An adult, so she keeps telling me. An adult who still wants her dinner cooked and her clothes washed for her. Sometimes I feel more like a servant than a mother.’

‘I know the feeling,’ Lottie said, noting that Anna was still referring to her daughter in the present tense. ‘So on Sunday she got up at one o’clock. What did she do then?’

‘We had dinner. A roast. Just the two of us. My husband, Elizabeth’s dad, died eight years ago. Cancer.’

A sharp stitch screwed into Lottie’s heart. Death did that to you. You never got over it; you just learned to live with it. And she was still learning. She felt Boyd staring at her and raised her head. He nodded, his knowing look.

She turned back to Anna. ‘What did Elizabeth do after dinner?’

‘Back up to bed she went. Said she was tired, not to disturb her. She had a hangover, so I let her be. She didn’t appear downstairs again and I never heard her get up for work Monday morning. Therefore, Inspector, the last time I saw my daughter was around two o’clock on Sunday.’

‘Can we see her room?’ Lottie asked, thinking it was a bit odd that Anna hadn’t checked on Elizabeth. Then again, she herself was guilty of the same inaction from time to time.

‘First door at the top of the stairs.’ Anna picked up the cups and went to the sink.

‘I’ll sit with you while Inspector Parker has a look,’ Boyd said.

‘I’ll be fine. Go ahead.’

‘You’re sure I can’t ring someone?’ Boyd asked.

‘Just do what you have to do.’

Lottie beckoned him to follow and they made their way up the stairs.

‘Strange little family,’ Lottie whispered.

‘You can talk,’ Boyd said.



* * *



‘On first impressions, Elizabeth was a bit like you,’ Lottie said to Boyd.

‘How do you come to that conclusion?’

‘This room screams OCD to me.’

‘Maybe her mother cleaned it up.’

‘I doubt it, based on what she’s just told us.’

As she looked around the room, Lottie was struck by the symmetry of everything. Make-up brushes lined up in a jar by height; perfume bottles in a tidy circle; nail polish in a neat row, the colours of the rainbow. A small bottle of fluorescent pink stood at the end.

She opened the first of three drawers. Underwear, all folded. Running her hand beneath them, it came away empty. The next drawer had a hairdryer, straighteners and brushes. She placed a hairbrush in a plastic evidence bag. The last held a multitude of colourful scarves and socks.

She turned her attention to the wardrobe while Boyd rifled through the bedside cabinet. The clothes were divided neatly down the middle by an IKEA shoe-holder. One side held skirts and jackets – Elizabeth’s work clothes; the other side a conglomeration of jeans, some with designer tears and holes. Beside them, a rack of long sleeved T-shirts and blouses, and a selection of Lycra running gear. The top shelf held an assortment of girlie hats, and on the floor of the wardrobe were neatly paired Nike and Adidas runners. All pristine.

‘She even cleaned her runners,’ Lottie said. She noticed Boyd sitting on the neatly made duvet, thumbing through a flower-covered notebook. ‘What’s that?’

‘Love poems, by the look of it. Mr Matt Mullin broke this girl’s heart.’

‘Any laptop?’

‘No, and no phone either. She must have had them with her.’

Lottie ran her hands under the pillows, finding only folded pyjamas. ‘Gosh, I wish my girls could see this.’

‘See what?’

‘How they should keep their rooms.’

‘Not normal, though, is it?’ Boyd gestured around. ‘For a twenty-five-year-old to be so fastidious.’

‘Everyone is different.’

‘If you say so.’

Boyd got down on his knees and peered beneath the bed.

‘Anything?’ Lottie asked.

‘Just this.’ He pulled out a red cabin-sized suitcase and unzipped it. ‘Empty.’

‘She hadn’t been planning to run away.’

‘I’m taking the notebook.’

She watched as he put it into an evidence bag. ‘You know what’s missing?’

‘What?’ He secured the flaps.

‘Costume jewellery. My girls have drawers full of it.’ She pointed to a small selection of silver and gold chains hanging on a plastic stand on the dressing table. ‘Why did Elizabeth only have genuine jewellery? I’ll ask Anna about it.’

‘I think it’s more important to find the ex-boyfriend.’ Boyd made for the door.

Feeling the tension pushing pinpricks of annoyance up on her skin, Lottie counted to five before following him.





Twelve





The box of cornflakes was in the wrong cupboard. Donal O’Donnell shook his head and opened the next cupboard. He took out the packet and got the milk from the fridge, then sat at the table and filled the bowl. Breakfast at lunchtime was becoming a habit. Picking up the spoon, he noticed it was dirty. Caked cereal dotted the handle.