Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
I bought myself a veggie breakfast wrap and a coffee, times two, giving one to Edie, the homeless woman who’d taken up residence in one of the unused doorways of the Fishbowl. It was becoming a morning routine; if I spotted her before I got to a too trendy café, I’d get us both something to eat.
She looked about as fresh as I did this morning, which was to say not very at all.
I’d spent the night with restless, racing thoughts about random things taking up residence in my head.
My bed didn’t feel comfy and the sheets felt too tangled, even after I’d remade the thing.
If things had been different, I’d have talked the case through in principle with my old university tutor, Daniel, but that avenue was closed.
Vinny was hanging around the reception, seemingly keen to talk to one of the women on there, utterly pouring on the charm like it was double cream with chocolate sprinkles.
I tapped him on the shoulder. “Did you get your results?”
His face dropped. “What results?”
“You know, the results you were waiting for – from the clinic.”
“What clinic?”
“The one for warts. The ones down there.”
The receptionist, who I knew was called Melinda, bolted to the other end.
“I haven’t got - ” He shook his head. “Fucking hell, Mia. You’re such a cock-blocker.”
I laughed, satisfied. “I like Melinda. She’s efficient and nice, and we don’t need another professional refusing to work with you. Have you seen Dr Miz recently?” Vinny had an ill-advised one-night stand with one of the pathologists.
“Funny, aren’t you?” He started to walk with me towards the stairs. “I could think you were trying to keep me all for yourself.”
“Just doing my duty, protecting other women from you.” This felt like normal, bantering with Vinny. “How’s the case?”
“Done, almost. We’ve two more in custody and we’ll be charging them this afternoon, then it’s just the paperwork.”
I’d noticed he’d lost weight and looked pale. “Then some time off?”
“I fucking hope so. How’s the fire going?”
“Weirdly. There’s something about it that feels off. Something obvious that we’re missing and I can’t put my finger on it.” That was what was irking me; I felt like we’d overlooked something.
“I heard you were looking at an old case.”
“We are, and I think we need to look a bit more closely at it.” I felt the fog in my head clear some.
“Never my favourite sort of investigation.”
“No. It requires the ability to think.”
He paused on the stairs and put his hand over his heart. “Mia, you wound me - ”
“Quite happily. Thank you for brightening my day.” I legged it up the rest of the stairs, hoping he couldn’t be bothered to race me.
I was the second person there, only Lachy was bent over a computer, hair wet and cheeks looking flush.
“Have you slept here?”
“No.” He clicked his mouse, staring at the screen. “Went to the gym before work. Didn’t really sleep.”
“Why?”
He spun round to face me. “Lily. What you said about her, how she was. What if she wasn’t the person who started the fire at her parents?”
“Why are you suddenly thinking that?”
He sat back, making the chair squeak. “How she is. We spoke to her neighbours when they got home from work. One of them, a bloke who lives with his son, said she was timid, really jittery, so he did wonder whether she was scared of something.”
“She’s scared people will find out who she is.”
“The neighbours don’t know her; she hasn’t got any friends even though she was released years ago. What sort of life is that?” He seemed almost incredulous.
“Some would say it’s the life she deserves.”
“Harsh. If she did set the fire, she was a kid.” He tapped at a notepad with a pen, as if he was stabbing it. “Who put the brick through?”
“The same person who started the fire and strangled Amanda? It’s someone who knows who Lily really is. We need to unpick her life.” I sat down on one of the workstations, noticing Wrigley coming over with the two PCs. Verity was rushing through the doors, looking fraught.
“So who does know who Lily is? Either because they recognised her or they’ve worked it out.” Wrigley took a seat on another chair that also groaned.
I had to question the quality of the furniture they’d bought for the Fishbowl. It did not seem robust.
“We need to talk to her teachers and see if we can find anyone that remembers her. You okay?” I looked over at Verity who was standing behind Wrigley, looking puzzled.
“Yes, fine, but did you hear the local news this morning?” She took off her coat and hung it over a chair.
“Which part?” Wrigley said. “The corrupt politician or yet another crash on the M-Sixty?”
“The bit about firefighters putting out another fire. There have been three in the last four weeks and they’re up through Oldham way.” She looked over at me. “And I heard about it from my, erm, firefighter friend.”
I’d forgotten she was going on a date with one of the responders at Micky Mulligan’s. “You’re wondering if it’s someone with a thing for fire?”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean that’s the profile of our killer. They strangled Amanda.” This was the part that didn’t fit. “And restrained Micky so he had no chance of escaping the fire. Have we had anything back from the labs?” I looked over at Carly, who’d quietly logged on to the system.
“Fingerprints from outside the dining room where the fire was started only match what were inside the house; they’re the same as ones found in the kitchen on the cupboards, so we could assume they’re Micky’s.” She slowed down as she finished. “It’s an assumption, I know.”
“But probably the right one. What about the accelerant?” Wrigley said.
“Standard petrol. Easy to get hold of.” She kept her attention on her screen. Carly was doing a really good job, based in the Fishbowl, covering the admin. I was hoping that Wrigley, or whoever his successor was, would find a way to keep her on. I knew she was enjoying it.
“They entered through the back of the property, having walked across the fields from the outbuilding. Any luck with the quad bike theory, Lach?” I said, walking over to the murder board where we had a map of the area, the trail that the dogs had found plotted on it.
“One of the residents on the estate to the north of Micky Mulligan’s has one, or so one of the neighbourhood kids told us, but they’re away at the moment.
Due home tomorrow, so it’s on my list to find out if they lent it to anyone.
” He cracked his knuckles, one of his more annoying habits, which I was sure he’d caught from Vinny.
Wrigley shook his head. “It’s going to be a needle in a haystack. Say they did lend it to someone; that relies on the kids or someone remembering when and what they were like.”
“It could’ve been stolen and returned,” Lachy said. “Weirder things have happened.”
“But that would’ve needed to be at night, and quad bikes are noisy fuckers,” Wrigley argued back.
Lachy shrugged. “Around there it wouldn’t be that unusual. That field attracts them. I saw a load of notices up asking people to sign a petition to put up gates so they couldn’t get through.”
The skin on my back twitched. “Who put the signs up?”
“Why? Probably some do-gooder.” Lachy turned towards me.
“How were they getting people to sign up? Website?” I rolled my shoulders; probably looked like I was warming up for a run.
“A QR code.”
“Can you pass by there and scan it? Take a photo of the poster too. Protecting that field could be something The Holding are interested in doing given what we know about their ideology. I’m not saying it’s them organising the petition, but they might be connected. ” Another long shot, maybe. Maybe not.
“What about the other fires?” Wrigley chipped in. “The Mulligan house doesn’t fit with someone who gets their rocks off starting fires. It was done to cover up Amanda and kill Micky, but the person who started it knew what they were doing. The chances are they’d had some practice.”
“Like Lily Mayhew,” Verity added. “Didn’t she set a few fires off before her parents’ house went up?”
“She was suspected of it, but there was no proof. There was a lot of antisocial behaviour from her but no evidence for fire starting. I’m going to head to the school and see if there’s anyone still working there who taught Lily, and if I can get the contact details for the person who reported concerns through to social care.
” We divvied out jobs, clutching at the thin threads we were working with.
“I’ll pick Lily up on the way back here.
” I planned to contact her this morning and arrange a time to bring her to the Fishbowl for an interview.
Lachy was still in his chair, swinging round slightly on it and lost in thought.
“Why aren’t you springing out of your chair?” He was meant to be on his way to track down the person who’d put up the posters about the potential housing development.
He tapped his pen against the worktop. “Just thinking.”
“Is it painful?”
“Funny. If it wasn’t Lily who started the fire at the Goodhews’, what was the motive for the person who did do it?”
“Something to do with the Holding? It’s got to play a part in this.”
He stood up, pocketing his phone. “I’ll go and start some digging.”
“Hilarious.”
Lily’s old school was in its last year inhabiting a building that was twenty years past its use by date.
Across the road from its current crumbling state was a shiny new building, windows trying to shine through the film of dust in the June sunlight, a new sign stating that this was Barrowfold Academy, part of Waterford Learning Trust. The grounds of the new school were in the process of being landscaped and I wondered how long it would take before the school budget forgot them.
I paused at barriers into the school car park, letting whoever answered the buzzer know I was here. I’d called ahead, hoping that someone in the office would know a member of staff who’d worked at the school when Lily was a pupil, and I got lucky; Nicola Marriott, the senior administrator did.