Chapter 108
She’d phoned Boyd, telling him to return to the office and accompany her.
Now, standing outside the house in the rain, he leaned all his weight on the doorbell. ‘You’re clutching at the proverbial straws again.’
‘I’m right. I know I am.’
Lily Clarke opened the door. Bare feet, red leggings and a pink sweatshirt sporting an image of Taylor Swift made her look older. Older than she was in the photo used when she was supposedly missing.
‘Hello, sweetheart,’ Lottie said. ‘Are your mammy and daddy home?’
‘You’re the guards,’ Lily stated. ‘Come in. They’re in the kitchen. I’m watching telly.’
‘All alone?’
‘Yeah, I want a puppy, but they won’t let me get one even though my best friend is dead and I’ve no one to play with.’
‘I’m so sorry, pet.’ Lottie followed her down the hall.
‘Ah, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.’ Lily waltzed into the sitting room like a mini Sadie, Lottie thought. And as confident. Though as they made their way into the kitchen, she wondered if in fact the girl would be fine.
Sadie was sitting on a stool at the island and Thomas, arms folded, leaned against the counter.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ Lottie said. ‘Lily let us in.’
‘She shouldn’t have opened the door,’ Thomas said, straightening. ‘Has that child learned nothing over the past week? She could have let a marauding stranger in to kill us all.’
‘I think sometimes the killer is closer to home. Isn’t that right, Sadie?’
‘What are you talking about? Would you like a coffee? Thomas is the master of coffee-making.’ Her words dripped with sarcasm, or maybe disgust.
‘No thanks,’ Lottie said. ‘I’ve been studying the photos from your shoebox.’
‘Oh, did you find enough evidence to convict Alice Quigley of my mother and sister’s murders?’
‘Actually, this concerns you.’
‘Me?’ Sadie jumped off her stool. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We have photos from the searches that we conducted here when Lily, then you, disappeared.’
Sadie’s face relaxed. ‘Oh, please don’t go too hard on poor Christy. He was an innocent in all this. Will he face charges?’ She must have caught the look in Lottie’s eye. ‘Will I?’
‘It depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On whether you cooperate with us.’
‘I’ll do whatever I can to assist you.’
‘Can we talk in your bedroom?’ Lottie pointed upwards.
‘What for?’
‘To help me solve the last bit of the puzzle. Indulge me.’
‘Sure. Thomas, make the coffee. We’ll be down in a minute.’ Sadie exuded a composure that worried Lottie.
‘We have to finish our conversation,’ Thomas said, arms limp by his sides.
‘Can you not get it into your head that I don’t give a rat’s arse about you and Una Savage. She’s welcome to you.’ Sadie’s eyes had darkened dangerously, but she recovered as she turned to Lottie. ‘Now, Inspector, follow me.’
The bedroom had been tidied, the floor hoovered, the blood washed away, though a faint stain remained – a reminder of the row that had occurred earlier in the week. Sadie fidgeted, wary now. Lottie could see it in the tenseness of her shoulders, the way she kept flexing her fingers.
‘Care to tell me what this is about?’
Lottie showed her the photo.
‘Okay. That’s a snap of this room. What has that got to do with anything?’
She walked over to the wardrobe, the bathrobe hanging on the door. ‘Can I?’
‘Go ahead. I still don’t know what this is about.’
She pulled on gloves and took a small clear evidence bag from her pocket. She carefully slipped the belt from the robe and put it in the bag. ‘This yours?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘This belt doesn’t match that dressing gown.’
‘So? I always get stuff mixed up in the wash.’
‘I don’t think you do, Sadie.’ Lottie watched as the tendons in Sadie’s neck went rigid, her hands tight fists of anger.
She showed her a crime scene photo of her mother’s bedroom.
In it there was a dressing gown with no belt.
That belt was now in the evidence bag in her hand. Forensics would prove it.
‘It’s all Alice’s fault.’
‘It may be her fault, but you strangled your mother and sister.’ She held up the bag. ‘With this bathrobe belt.’
Sadie stepped forward as if to snatch the bag, but then deflated like one of Dermot Macken’s balloons and sank to the bed.
Her voice was so low, Lottie had to bend over to hear her.
‘Poppy’s death was an accident. She wasn’t meant to die. But Denise had to be stopped.’
Lottie thought how similar this was to Alice’s claim about Freya. History repeating itself. ‘You kept a souvenir all this time. Why?’
‘To remind me of my escape from the depths of hell.’
‘Okay. You can explain it to me later.’ Lottie proceeded to arrest Sadie Clarke for the murder of her mother and little sister. At last Poppy Tormey would get the justice she deserved.