Chapter Sixty
STUART, SIX YEARS EARLIER
I looked behind her for evidence of other police officers, anything to offer context to this moment.
We were into the second month of a government lockdown during a pandemic.
We’d all been indoors for weeks, not allowed to leave our homes, not allowed to mix with other people.
I had not spoken to a human being that wasn’t Daisy, Jessamine, or Annie since the middle of March.
“Claire…?” I asked.
“Connolly,” the DI repeated. “Could I come in, do you think? Ask you a few questions?”
“Erm, are you allowed? Given, you know, the situation?”
“Yes, sir.” The DI smiled. “I am allowed.”
Hugo appeared and started sniffing excitedly at the visitor’s feet. It had been a long time since Hugo had had an encounter with a new human being too.
“Cute dog,” said Yasmin, following me across the driveway. “What’s his name?”
“Hugo,” I replied. “He’s keeping us all sane.”
“I bet!”
She peered around the house as she passed through, and I knew what she was thinking. She was thinking it was grimy and tired and dirty. Things had gone to seed. We’d all gone to seed.
“So.” She took a seat at the kitchen table and looked at some notes. “Are you… Mr. Allen Black?”
“Oh,” I said. “No. No, my name is Stuart Tucker. Mr. Black doesn’t… he doesn’t live here anymore.”
She nodded. “But can I just check that Mrs. Anne Black lives here?”
“Yes. She’s in the garden.”
As I said this the kitchen door opened and Annie appeared in dark sunglasses and a black summer dress, a floppy straw hat in one hand. She looked from me to the detective and said, “I thought I heard someone.”
The detective introduced herself and Annie maintained her composure. “Nice to meet you, Miss Brooks.”
“DI.”
“Yes. Sorry. What can we do for you?”
“I work with the cold-case team at the Met, and I’m looking into a missing person case from 2005. A young woman called Claire Connolly.”
Annie rested her hat on the kitchen counter and joined us at the table. “Yes,” she said. “I remember that. The police came and spoke to us then, I recall.”
“That’s right.” The DI’s eyes went to her notebook again. “And at the time our officers spoke to yourself, your husband, Allen Black, and your children, Jessamine and Jasper Black. Is that correct?”
“Yes. As far as I recall.”
“And your husband? Where is he now?”
“Oh.” Annie shook her head dismissively. “Allen left here a long time ago.”
“Left? You mean, you’re separated?”
“Yes, very much so.”
I inhaled softly. I thought Annie had said that Allen was dead. I wondered if I’d somehow misinterpreted her words.
The DI nodded and made a note. “And your daughter? Jessamine? Does she still live here?”
“Yes. Although I’m afraid she is rather unwell. Bedbound. She’s not really in any fit state to be answering questions, I’m afraid.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. It’s not Covid, I hope?”
“No.” Annie shook her head sadly. “No, much worse than that, I’m afraid.”
The DI nodded and returned to her notes. “And the child? Who lives here? I saw her in your front garden a few days ago. She wasn’t here when the original case was being investigated, so I assume she is your daughter’s child?”
“Yes. That’s right. Daisy, my granddaughter.”
“Is she here?”
“Well, I’d hope so given that we’re in the middle of a government lockdown. Yes. She’s in her room, doing schoolwork on her computer.”
“Right. Would it be possible to talk to her?”
“What for? She wasn’t born when that girl went missing.”
“I appreciate that, but still, I’d like to meet her, if I may?”
“Now?”
“Yes. Please.”
“But she’s in lessons. She can’t just walk out.”
“It won’t take long. Three minutes at most.”
I saw Annie’s nostrils flare slightly, her jaw set. Annie did not like being told what to do. But then she nodded and said, “Fine. I’ll go and get her.”
The DI turned back to me as Annie left the room. “How long have you lived here, Mr. Tucker?”
“About three years.”
“And you’re… Jessamine’s partner?”
I nodded, and then shrugged. “I mean, yes, I suppose I am. At least I was, but I’d say we’re more platonic now. Since she got ill. I mostly take care of her, and Daisy and Annie.”
“And the dog.” The DI glanced down at Hugo, who was sitting dutifully at my feet.
“Yes. And the dog.”
“How did you meet Ms. Black?”
“Oh,” I said. “In the pub, actually. She used to go in there with the dog; I saw her every day. I felt sorry for her, I suppose. But then it turned into something more than that and I moved in here in early 2017.”
“So, I don’t suppose you know much about the original investigation? Anybody ever mention it to you?”
“No.” I shook my head slowly. “This is the first time I’ve heard anything about it. Who was she, this Claire Connolly?”
“She was a young woman from Cheshire. She’d been living in London for a few years, in Kentish Town.
She’d been studying music production at a London university.
Very popular. Very well liked. A bit scatterbrained, according to her family and friends, prone to doing spontaneous things, changing plans, being a no-show, that’s why her friends didn’t report her missing for five days. ”
“And now you’re reinterviewing everyone, are you, from the initial investigation?”
“Well, no, not everyone. Just this household.”
“Because?”
“I’d prefer to talk to Mrs. Black about that, since she was living here at the time.”
I shrugged. Fair enough. But my palms were sweating and my heart was racing. All these years I’d known there was something fundamentally sick at the core of this house, and now… here it was.
Annie returned with Daisy, who was in her pajamas, as she was all day every day at that time. I watched the DI’s face as she turned to greet Daisy, and I saw something strange flash across her features.
“Hello, Daisy,” she said. “Sorry to disturb your lesson. This won’t take long.
” She introduced herself and explained why she was there, and then very slowly she pulled a photograph out of her bag and slid it across the table toward Daisy.
She stared deeply at Daisy, watching her reaction.
“This is a lady called Claire Connolly. Do you feel as if you might ever have seen her before?”
Daisy touched the edge of the photograph and stared at it thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I mean, maybe? She looks, like, a tiny bit familiar, I suppose? But I don’t think I know her. No.”
“Thank you, Daisy. And tell me, what’s your date of birth?”
“Third of October 2006.”
“So, you’re… thirteen and a half?”
“Yes.”
DI Brooks sighed and placed her hands together on the top of the table.
She turned back to me and to Annie. “So, here’s the thing,” she said.
“I’ve done some research, and I can see that Daisy is enrolled at Waterside Academy in Islington and that she attended St. John’s Primary School in Hampstead and that she is registered with a GP surgery.
But Daisy does not have a birth certificate or a passport.
I could find no record of her birth at any hospital in the greater London area.
And I’m confused, to be honest. Is there any reason, Mrs. Black, that your daughter didn’t register Daisy’s birth? ”
I turned to Annie, looking for a flicker of something, but her face was smooth and impassive.
“My daughter gave birth at home. There were complications regarding the baby’s father, complications regarding Jessamine herself.
She kept putting it off. And off. And off.
I offered to take the baby myself, numerous times, but she wouldn’t let me.
And then suddenly Daisy was a year old and still not registered, so we just skipped it and registered her at school using her NHS card. ”
DI Brooks tapped her pen up and down twice against her notepad. “Right,” she said. “I see. And may I ask, who is Daisy’s father? Mr. Tucker and I have already established it’s not him.”
Annie sucked her breath in through her nostrils.
“DI Brooks, I really do think this is a very peculiar line of questioning, not to mention somewhat inappropriate. I cannot see any reason why you would want to know who Daisy’s father was, or indeed what on earth any of this has got to do with the missing girl? ”
I saw the DI realize she’d reached the limit of her unconventional questioning and pull back. “Of course. That’s fine. You can go back to your lesson now, Daisy. Thank you.”
When Daisy had returned to her bedroom, DI Brooks turned her attention back to Annie. “At the time of Claire’s disappearance, when the original investigating team was going door to door, they spoke to a neighbor of yours called…” She consulted her notes again. “Sara Aalto?”
Annie nodded in recognition of the name. “Yes. I remember her.”
“She told the officer that on the day of Claire’s disappearance—”
“Potential day of her disappearance,” Annie interjected. “You did just tell me that she wasn’t reported as missing for five days. So who knows when she actually went missing.”
I inhaled sharply. What was Annie doing? It sounded to me that she was laying out her defense. A chill passed through me.
“Well, perhaps, but Ms. Aalto told us she was aware of someone at the back fence of your property, of movement, of a female voice. She then said she must have been mistaken, that it was just you and your family eating lunch in your back garden. But I did wonder why that was never followed up at the time, and I did, crazy as it sounds, spend some time in the area behind your house last week, trying to get a feel for what might have been Claire Connolly’s last movements.
And amazingly, I found something. A paper bag containing a plastic plectrum and some guitar strings.
And not just that but a receipt that I had analyzed and that turned out to be dated the day she disappeared.
So I’m now wondering afresh about that day and the voice that Sara Aalto heard, and I’d really like the opportunity to carry out a proper search of your property and the garden.
” She looked firmly and squarely at Annie and added, “A full-scale search.”
Annie recoiled. “What on earth are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting, Mrs. Black, that Claire Connolly somehow found her way onto your property that day, and then somehow never found her way back.”
“And you think that we had something to do with that?”
“Well, maybe not you, but someone who lived here at the time. Your ex-husband—”
“He’s not my ex-husband. We’re still married. Just separated.”
“Fine. Your husband. Your son…” She consulted her notebook again. “Jasper? Who no longer lives here, is that correct?”
“He left home fourteen years ago.”
“And where would I find him now?”
“I’m afraid I have no idea. He left quite suddenly, and I haven’t heard from him since.”
DI Brooks nodded. “And your husband? How would we be able to get in contact with him?”
“Again. I have no idea. He left one day, and that was that.”
DI Brooks paused then, her pen suspended above her notebook, as if trying to piece together a puzzle in her mind.
“Was that also fourteen years ago?”
“Yes,” Annie replied. Then, “No. Less than that. Ten years, roughly.”
The DI nodded and made another note. “Well,” she said, “we’ll have to look into that. But in the meantime, with or without your husband and your son, we’ll need to access your property. We can get a warrant if necessary. Or you could just allow us. I have colleagues waiting around the corner.”
Annie tuts. “My goodness,” she said. “I’d have thought you’d have more important things to worry about in the middle of a pandemic than this bizarre cat-and-mouse chase.”
“Could I allow them to come in, or will you be demanding a warrant?”
“I’ll be demanding a warrant, of course.”
DI Brooks’s jaw tensed. “Fine,” she said.
“We’ll be back tomorrow. But in the meantime, I’m going to request, very politely, that you do not touch anything or remove anything from the property.
A police officer will be stationed outside your house, and he will be reporting back any signs of abnormal activity. OK?”
“Oh, really,” said Annie. “This is quite ridiculous. I’ll of course be consulting with a lawyer, to make sure this is all aboveboard, because I cannot see for a moment how a bag full of guitar strings could possibly give you any reason to come onto my property and touch anything. It’s completely ridiculous.”
“Well,” said DI Brooks, gathering her things and getting to her feet. “That remains to be seen. We have more than just a bag of guitar strings, Mrs. Black. Much more than a bag of guitar strings. I will see you tomorrow. Thank you for your time and have a good day.”
The atmosphere after the DI left was fraught.
Annie immediately called her lawyer and made an appointment to talk to him over Zoom later that day.
She then disappeared into her study for an hour, and I heard the sound of her small fingers frantically tapping the keyboard as she searched the internet for clues about her legal standing.
I kept away from her, lurking in the shadows. From the front window I could see the lone policer officer standing outside his squad car, his face turned toward the sun. I headed out and asked him if he’d like a glass of water. He said he was fine and waved a plastic bottle at me.
When I came back in a few minutes later, Annie was on her hands and knees in the study, pulling papers out of drawers. “What did she mean,” she barked at me, “ ‘more than a bag of strings’—what did she mean by that?”
“What are you looking for, Annie?”
She looked at me frantically. “Nothing,” she said. “I don’t know. I just… what did she mean by that?”
“I guess we’ll find out when she comes with the warrant tomorrow.”
“But she can’t possibly. I mean, this is insane. What on earth are they looking for?”
I sighed and smiled. “The same thing you’re looking for, I suppose.”
“Which is what?”
“I have no idea. You tell me, Annie? I’ve always known there was something suspect about this house. About your setup. And now,” I said calmly, “maybe I’m about to find out exactly what it is.”