Chapter 33
Angelina’s house was chocolate-box pretty.
Fin greeted them and showed them round. They’d managed to get a forensic officer to the scene and the house was being processed so they wore coveralls, masks and gloves.
It was hell-hot and Angelina’s studio was a conservatory with windows on all sides. It was like an oven in there. Photos of Jamie were everywhere.
‘She loved to paint him. He was a common subject in her work,’ Fin told them.
They stood in silence in the middle of an active work room which was not in any way abandoned.
Angelina was planning to come back here.
‘It doesn’t look like she was a natural portrait artist; she preferred landscapes. There’s a magazine of her famous pieces over there and the one hanging in the Hampton-Dent HQ in New York is valued at two million dollars.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Emma said. ‘Who says what a drawing is worth?’
‘Supply and demand,’ Kelly said. ‘There’s only one like it. It’s virtually priceless if somebody is willing to pay limitless amounts for it. It’s a crazy world.’
‘Everything about this case gets crazier,’ Emma said.
‘Look,’ Fin said. He directed them to a series of sketches of Rydal and Grasmere.
‘Is that Heron Hall?’ Emma asked.
‘It is. She studied it, why?’ Kelly asked aloud.
‘The photo of Joe Folly is in the kitchen. I didn’t bag it; I waited for you. There’s an ultrasound pinned up there too.’
They followed him and walked through where Angelina lived her life. Kelly recalled Water Nymph and her smashed-in head, and her broken hands, and the sexual assault and it jarred with this haven of tranquillity and creativity.
The photo of Joe Folly was vibrant. Phone copies could never capture the original and he beamed out of the satin-finish photograph. It was a different man to the professional one. He was open, happy, in love.
‘Anything else?’ Kelly asked.
‘Everything seems in order, as you would expect a happy home.’
‘A happy home expecting a baby,’ Kelly added.
Emma went quiet and Kelly felt clumsy.
‘Sorry, Emma. That was insensitive of me.’
‘No, we’re here to do a job. My pregnancy is incidental,’ she said.
‘I needed to see this place for myself,’ Kelly said. ‘I feel I know her a bit better now. And Jamie.’
Her eyes were drawn to a large painting in the corner of the kitchen.
‘Is that a self-portrait?’ Kelly asked.
‘It looks like her,’ Emma said.
They were drawn to the large eyes, the black hair and the way the subject peeked from a shy stare to seduce the onlooker.
‘God, she’s good,’ Kelly said.
‘Thought this might be interesting too,’ Fin said. He handed them a magazine which featured a piece about the Rydal Caves original and there was an accompanying photo that wasn’t in the Hampton-Dent magazine. It was of Hank Hampton beaming and standing close to Angelina in front of the painting.
‘They met,’ Kelly said. ‘I need to get access to his bodyguards. They might all wear Mercedes baseball caps but I doubt it.’
‘There was only one in the footage,’ Emma said.
‘Kevin Streeting?’
Emma nodded.
‘HQ isn’t budging on protecting their special status as VIPs. The embassy is stalling and my hands are tied. Technically, Tilda Dent invited me to Dow Bank House so I could just turn up. Emma, do you want to come back now or with Fin?’
‘I’ve finished; we can all go together,’ Fin said.
‘Right, I’m getting out of this suit, I’m dying. Meet you out front in ten minutes? I need to make a phone call.’
Kelly left and ripped off the protective coverings from her body and rolled them up as she left the house, placing them in a black bag in the back of the forensic van.
She must call Johnny to arrange his visit to see Lizzie this week. Her pulse quickened unexpectedly and she realised she was looking forward to seeing him, as if he had gone away for a weekend trip and was coming back to her bed.
Stop it, she told herself.
As she went back to the car a shape caught her eye and she peered across the road to an old barn. The figure darted behind it and she ran across the road, trotting around the grassy patch to where she’d seen the individual.
Round the back she saw a person walking quickly away.
‘Stop!’ she shouted. ‘Police!’
He carried on walking, head down, hood up, hands in pockets.
Perhaps it was a sullen youth with nothing better to do, but something told her to not let him go.
She followed him and caught up with him.
He turned and confronted her behind the post office where they sold a local author’s crime books that were very good; she’d read them all.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She’d seen him before, but only on a screen. In a photo. But in the flesh, he was unmistakable.
‘Joe Folly,’ she whispered under her breath.
She felt her lanyard blowing across her chest and she stilled it with one hand and pushed her hair away from her face with the other.
‘You’re a difficult man to find.’
She studied him. His face was unmistakable, but it was broken. She saw pain, anguish but also anger, rage…
‘You came back to be close to Angelina’s home?’
‘You’re the detective,’ he said quietly. ‘Forgive me, I don’t trust many people,’ he said.
It was a curious introduction, but Kelly understood. These people were paranoid. She looked about.
‘There’s no one here,’ she said.
‘You’re here.’
‘Your Instagram post. You posted a picture of the lake.’
‘You recognised it?’
‘Of course. This is my backyard. What are you doing here, Joe Folly?’
‘Research.’
‘Into the death of Jamie Robbins and his sister?’
He smiled and she noticed dimples in his cheeks. Joe Folly was more good-looking in the flesh. He wore casual denim shorts and a T-shirt, over which he’d spread a knitted top. The dark hoodie completed the disguise. He looked like a regular tourist.
‘What was your relationship with Angelina?’
‘I can’t talk about her in the past tense,’ he said. His voice cracked and Kelly saw the love he had for her.
‘Should we talk about Jamie instead?’ Kelly looked around and lightened the tone. ‘Behind a cowshed is not really the interview I had planned for you but there we go.’
‘What do you want from me? I’m not related to your investigations into anything.’
‘But you are. You knew both victims well.’
He backed away.
‘I know Jamie shared information with you. Was he worried about his safety?’
‘Let me see that ID again.’
‘You really are worried, aren’t you? Who do you think I am?’
‘You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?’
It sounded like a threat to Kelly, and she didn’t like his tone. It was dark and menacing. She recalled teenagers like Joe Folly at school. They were obsessed with inverted reality and drama. She smiled.
‘Would you like to tell me?’
He peered across the road to Angelina’s house. ‘Are you in charge of Jamie’s murder investigation?’
‘Why do you think it was murder?’
‘You don’t?’ He laughed cynically.
Kelly waited.
‘He wasn’t toeing the line. They wanted to own him. He wasn’t playing along.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He believed in his product, but they wanted to use it as a vehicle for something else.’
‘Who’s “they”?’
That smile again. ‘Hampton-Dent. They’re not a wellness company; they’re a chemical company. It’s very different. Pharmaceuticals shouldn’t go anywhere near food.’
‘I notice that’s the theme of a lot of your material.’
‘You listen to my podcast?’
‘I became interested in it because of Jamie.’
‘And what’s your theory? He jumped? He had everything to live for.’ He parodied a sycophantic voice.
‘OK, let’s rewind a little. You think Jamie was pushed because he was about to reveal some high-up corruption inside Hampton-Dent, linked to medical approval?’
Joe smiled again. Kelly felt like an amateur every time he did so.
‘You need to help me out here,’ she said.
He walked towards her and stopped about a foot away. Kelly heard footsteps and was distracted, turning sideways.
‘You need to watch your back. If you get too close, they’ll come for you too,’ he warned her.
‘Is that what Jamie told you? Were he and his sister about to go rogue?’ she asked.
The footsteps got closer.
Joe went pale at the mention of Angelina again.
‘Why did Jamie move her to a remote hotel?’
‘He wouldn’t tell me.’
‘You didn’t know?’
‘If I did, do you think she’d have been killed?’
Kelly hesitated. She was gobsmacked. Not only had Joe lost his love, he’d been prevented from protecting her.
Or at least that’s what she was being told.
‘We need to talk properly, Joe. Come with me; I can protect you,’ Kelly said but even as she did she knew it was a promise she couldn’t see through. HQ was breathing down her neck and how the hell could she keep someone safe when she couldn’t even gain access to vital witnesses?
Joe laughed.
‘Who do you think you are? The fucking Sweeney?’
‘You’re too young to remember The Sweeney,’ she said.
‘That’s the problem with you institutionalised lot, isn’t it? You underestimate everyone else who’s outside of the system.’
Kelly held his gaze and she felt small. Ridiculed. Insignificant. Irrelevant.
‘It’s important I understand what Jamie and Angelina were about to expose before their deaths.’
Joe backed away.
‘Am I under arrest?’ Joe asked.
‘Of course not,’ Kelly said. ‘Don’t go. Wait. Take this,’ she said, holding out a card.
He took it.
‘Contact me anytime. Be forewarned that I won’t hesitate to arrest you if I find out you were involved.’
He skipped backwards, almost tripping, and then disappeared as a lorry roared past and whipped up dust into her eyes.
‘Fuck,’ Kelly said.
‘Boss?’ she heard Emma shouting and went back across the road to her car.
‘Where were you?’
‘I’ve just spoken to Joe Folly,’ she said.