‘You can’t do that – he’s only little –’
‘Oh, stop bloody fussing, will you – I do it all the time. It’s the only way I can keep him quiet.’
‘But –’
Tricia stares at her. ‘So are you going or what?’
***
AF: And you gave Tricia an alibi as well, didn’t you? You rang Rob Gardiner and left a message saying she was ill. And later, when the police called you to confirm it, you gave your name as Nicki Veale.
VN: [bites her lip]
Tricia was really angry about that. She said I should have chosen something different – something that didn’t sound so much like my real name. That it was the only thing I’d had to do on my own and I couldn’t even get that right.
AF: But that’s the point, isn’t it, Vicky? Tricia is a much better liar than you are. So what happens when she tells us her version of how Hannah died and it’s much more convincing than yours – what then?
VN: I’m the one telling the truth. I didn’t have any reason to kill her, did I?
MG: That’s quite right, Inspector. My client didn’t have any reason to kill Mrs Gardiner. Unlike her sister.
AF: I’m not so sure, Mr Godden. Tricia is very resourceful. I’m sure she’ll come up with a very plausible story. I can hear it now: she’ll say Hannah came snooping around that day – that she’d seen something out of the window of her flat and when she came to investigate she found a young woman, seven or eight months pregnant, living in a house supposedly occupied only by an old man. Hannah was a journalist: as soon as Vicky went public with the cellar story Hannah would have recognized her. I’d say that’s more than enough motive for Vicky to kill her.
VN: But that’s not what happened –
AF: But how do we know that? You can’t possibly prove it. And all your sister’s barrister has to do is create reasonable doubt –
[interruption – custody sergeant requests urgent discussion with DI Fawley]
GQ: Interview suspended at 9.42 p.m.
***
‘What the hell is it, Woods?’
‘I’m sorry, sir.’
I follow him down to the custody suite, Quinn at my heels. The cell door is still open and there’s blood on the bedding and in the toilet bowl.
I turn to Woods. ‘So?’
He gestures to the bed. Among the tangled blankets there’s a small blister pack, just large enough for two pills. It’s empty.
‘Before you ask, she did not have those with her when we booked her in,’ says Woods, red in the face.
‘You definitely searched her?’
‘Of course I did. Anyone with medication, it’s the doc that administers it. I know the drill. I’ve been doing this bloody job long enough.’
And I believe him. But you’d be staggered at how devious people can be. At the things they’ve managed to smuggle in here, over the years. Two little pills would have been child’s play by comparison.
Woods picks up the pack and hands it to me. I turn it over and read the name on the foil, and take a deep breath. ‘The only way she can have got hold of this is on the internet. No legitimate doctor would have given it to her.’
‘What is it?’ asks Quinn.
I turn to look at him. ‘It’s misoprostol. To induce abortion.’
‘Shit,’ he says.
Woods’ face goes from red to white and he sits down heavily on the bed.
‘Get hold of Everett,’ I say to Quinn. ‘Tell her she can’t afford to let that girl out of her sight.’
But he’s anticipated me. He’s already dialling.
‘Ev? Quinn. Heads up – Pippa – whatever her name is –’ He looks up at me, listening, then makes a face. ‘OK, I’ll tell him. Phone me if you get anything.’
‘Too late,’ he says, closing the call. ‘She’s gone. She was in one of those cubicle things and she must have got out the back somehow –’
‘Jesus Christ, didn’t one of them stay with her?’
‘Apparently Somer was just outside. She thought the nurse was in there doing the examination, but she hadn’t arrived yet. It was just a cock-up. We’ve all done it.’
Of course we have. He certainly has; I have. Just not when it mattered so much.
‘Are they searching the hospital?’
Quinn nods. ‘But she had at least ten minutes’ head start. And you know what that place is like – it’s a sodding rabbit warren.’
‘Surely she won’t be able to get far – not in the state she’s in.’
Quinn makes a face. ‘I wouldn’t put it past her. After all, knowing her, she probably planned the whole bloody thing.’
I know. That’s what I’m afraid of.
***
BBC Midlands Today
Thursday 11 May 2017 | Last updated at 17:34
BREAKING: Cellar suspect released without charge
Thames Valley Police have released a statement confirming that the owner of a house in Frampton Road, Oxford, who was suspected of abducting and imprisoning a young girl, will not be facing any charges. The police have not revealed the identity of the suspected abductor, but he has been named locally as William Harper, a retired academic in his seventies. There is now speculation that Dr Harper, who suffers from Alzheimer’s, may have been the victim of a particularly callous scam.
Detective Inspector Adam Fawley declined to discuss rumours that the alleged abduction was connected in some way to the 2015 murder of Hannah Gardiner, and refused to be drawn on when charges might be brought in that case. ‘We have a suspect,’ he said. ‘But no arrest has yet been made.’
***
Everett turns off the news. It’s been wall to wall all day. TV, papers, online. ‘Fritzl fraud’: Girl faked false imprisonment for cash; Oxford case raises concerns about vulnerable elderly living alone. Journalists have been calling and doorstepping police officers, wanting a quote or access to the house or a picture of Vicky. Fawley turned them all down.
She looks at her cat, curled on her lap.
‘I’m going to shift you now, Hector. I need to make some dinner.’
The big tabby blinks at her, clearly unconvinced that this is a good enough reason to upend him. But then there’s a knock at the door.
‘Off you go, Hector,’ she says, lifting him on to the seat next to her.
She gets up and goes over to the door.
‘Oh,’ she says when she sees who it is.
Erica Somer is smiling tentatively and holding a bottle of Prosecco. She’s in civvies: a pair of pale jeans, a black T-shirt, a ponytail.
‘Sorry to surprise you like this. Your neighbour was just going out so he let me in.’
Everett is still holding the door.
‘Look, I just thought that perhaps you and I – that we might not have got off on the right foot.’ She holds out the bottle. ‘Fancy a drink?’
Everett still hasn’t said anything, but then Somer gasps, ‘Oh, is that your cat?’
She crouches down and lifts the cat into her arms and starts to stroke him behind the ears. He closes his eyes and purrs loudly, cat-blissing.
‘Careful – he’ll be your friend for life if you keep doing that,’ says Everett with a wry smile.
Somer grins up at her. ‘I want a cat, but they don’t allow pets in my block.’
Everett laughs drily. ‘I only chose this place because it has a fire escape so he can have a flap. It was half the price again of the others I looked at. Everyone thought I was mad. And now the lazy bugger hardly ever uses it.’
The two women hold each other’s gaze for a moment, then Everett steps back and opens the door.