Wanting to avoid Angus for as long as she could, she was the first to slip from the room. She caught the lift downstairs hoping to wangle her way into the observation room to watch the Marius and Rodika interviews. She sensed that Pavel and Hardegan had been the victims of some kind of internal power struggle, but between whom? Marius had been uptight over something, and while Rodika had appeared ignorant of the circumstances behind Jon Pavel’s disappearance and his wife’s murder, there was no hiding her fear. But was it fear of the known or fear of the unknown? Stevie was anxious to find out.
On her way to the interview rooms, she called into the ladies off the central foyer. In it she found a middle-aged woman wearing a colourless skirt and thin grey cardigan, bent over the sink scrubbing at her face. She looked up and Stevie caught the spark of recognition in her puffy red eyes. The woman tried to hide her grief by reaching for the paper towels and pressing a wad into her face.
‘Mrs Williams?’ Stevie placed her hand upon the woman’s arm.
Skye’s mother gave her face a last dab, sniffed and threw the towels into the bin. ‘I know you, don’t I? Sorry, I’m no good with names.’
Stevie smiled. ‘That’s okay; we’ve only met the once, when I dropped something off for Skye, I mean Emily, at her flat. I wouldn’t expect you to remember me. My name’s Stevie Hooper.’
‘You were Emily’s policewoman friend, the one she met when she was a volunteer at the Rape Crisis Centre?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
Someone banged through the door and disappeared into one of the cubicles. Stevie placed her hand again on the woman’s arm and said in a whisper. ‘Are you all right, are they looking after you?’
‘As well as can be expected I suppose.’
‘Look, there’s a coffee shop just down the road. Why don’t we go and get a cuppa?’ Stevie changed her mind about watching the interviews. Talking with Mrs Williams might prove more beneficial to both of them.
The woman hesitated. ‘I wanted to talk to someone about the accident, that’s why I’m here. I was told to see someone called Angus Wong.’
Stevie wondered who had told Mrs Williams to talk to Angus. Did she know that Skye’s death was now being regarded as suspicious? ‘Angus is tied up with a press conference at the moment,’ she said. ‘But I’ll take you up to him after we’ve had a coffee if you like.’
‘Okay,’ said Mrs Williams, her eyes filling with tears again. ‘It’s been a long drive.’
Stevie held the door open for Mrs Williams then walked with her down the road to a coffee shop near Central. This was one of Stevie’s favourite boltholes, a place rarely visited by anyone on the Job, most cops preferring to hold their meetings in the local pubs and bars.
They ordered coffee and settled into a table near the window. Mrs Williams rarely met Stevie’s eye. Even when reminiscing about Skye she spent most of the time watching the smartly-dressed office workers striding purposefully up St George’s Terrace, holding skirts down, coats closed, battling the perpetual wind. ‘Did Mr Williams come with you?’ she asked.
‘He’s seeding. You know what it’s like; we have to take advantage of the rain.’
Stevie knew too well. Mrs Williams probably envied her husband locked away in the cabin of his John Deere, cutting himself off from everything around him.
‘Emily had a younger sister, didn’t she?’
Mrs Williams nodded and ladled three teaspoons of sugar into her coffee. ‘Gillian. She’s really upset of course; she’s at a difficult age. Never as focused as Emily was. I can only hope this isn’t going to tip her over the edge.’
‘I’m sure you and Mr Williams will be there for her.’
‘Terry, his name’s Terry; and I’m Irene.’ She began to cry, silently. Stevie passed her a napkin and she wiped her eyes. ‘I’m sorry about this; I’m just so tired. Luke phoned about four this morning and it felt as if I’d only just got to sleep. He said I should leave early if I wanted to catch this Inspector Wong bloke—Luke knows full well how long the drive is.’
‘Luke?’ Stevie couldn’t hide her surprise. ‘You mean Luke Fowler?’
‘That’s right, he’s been terrific about all this. I don’t know how I would have coped without him. He rang as soon as he heard the news, sent flowers, even offered to come and help with the seeding.’
Stevie frowned. Was this the ‘sordid’ history Skye had been referring to? ‘How well did Skye know Luke, Irene?’ she asked.
‘They were only together a few months. She brought him to the farm a few times. He was a bit odd, but we still liked him enough.’
Stevie shook her head with amazement. While Mrs Hardegan had flatly stated that Fowler had been in love with Skye and she had seen for herself how committed he was to finding the truth behind her death, she hadn’t thought for a moment they’d actually been an item. She’d assumed it must have been some kind of unrequited infatuation on his part. Although her experience with him in the Fremantle alley did suggest he wasn’t quite the Action Man she’d first pegged, it was still almost impossible to see a connection between the girl she’d considered her friend and the man she could barely tolerate. Eccentric, flighty, impulsive, Skye would have run a conservative, finicky man like Fowler ragged.
‘I didn’t know that. I can’t ... I just can’t imagine them being suited at all,’ she said.
‘He was quite a bit older than Emily, and very different, but they do say opposites attract, don’t they? But I know what you mean. It wasn’t really much of a surprise to Terry and me when Emily told us she’d broken up with him. She wasn’t one to take relationships too seriously; she was way too young for that. I think he was in far deeper than she ever was. He didn’t take the break up at all well, apparently. I did feel sorry for him. Emily was a wonderful, kind girl and everyone loved her, but when it came to relationships with men...’ Mrs Williams shrugged. ‘She didn’t seem to really care; they were just a bit of fun. She got bored so easily.’
Stevie had always known Skye to be a love-’em-and leave-’em type of girl, too young for a serious relationship she always maintained, and oblivious of the trail of broken hearts, or ‘fuck buddies,’ she left sinking in her wake.
‘How long ago did they break up?’ she asked.
Irene looked to the ceiling. ‘Three or so years ago.’ Her absent gaze returned to the window.
In her head, Stevie began to click together the background pieces of the relationship, using what she knew and adding some creative imagination. Fowler and Skye had been an item. He probably had no idea about the nature of Skye’s part-time work. She must have decided to tell him or else he found out for himself. He would have been horrified; a job like that would have been hard enough for any regular guy to accept, not to mention a man like Fowler.
When Skye was assaulted by one of her customers she made the mistake of seeking his help, probably thinking that going to a cop she knew would make it easier. Wrong. Fowler would still have been smarting over their broken relationship, hurt and humiliated. He’d not listened to Skye and brushed her allegations under the carpet. Stevie could almost hear his voice in her head saying that Skye had brought this trouble upon herself. If he had taken Skye’s complaint seriously, the next victim might have been alive today. That was quite a weight to be carrying about on those starched white shoulders; no wonder he was so cut up about Skye’s death. Why though, Stevie continued to puzzle, had Skye told her he still hated her guts? Maybe she was mistaken. Maybe it was more a case of Fowler hating himself.