It Could Have Been Her(77)
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.