‘It was a microphone, not the only one. I figured I could get a hundred quid for it. It was worth a lot more, but I had to pay my rent to Tess… Selling an unwanted mic was better than a day shift at Goose.’
‘You don’t like working there?’ asked Moss.
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘My brother-in-law, Jasper, isn’t a fan of mine. I have the job out of pity. Tess makes him employ me.’
‘I hated waitressing,’ said Moss.
‘It’s worse when your family owns the restaurant, and they’re having money worries of their own. The restaurant isn’t doing well,’ said Vicky, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
‘Did you sell the microphone?’ asked Erika.
‘Yes. I got eighty quid.’
‘When you got home and found Sophia, what did you do next?’ asked Erika.
‘I just stood there for I don’t know how long, and then I ran.’
‘Why did you run? Why not call the police?’
Vicky shook her head, staring ahead. Then she shrugged.
‘What did you take with you?’
‘A bag. This bag, with a few bits,’ she said, indicating the rucksack on the floor beside her. ‘The cash I got from the pawn shop.’
‘Did you plan to go to Scotland?’
‘I didn’t plan anything. I just ran.’
‘Cilla Stone is a close friend of yours?’ said Erika.
‘Yes.’ Her face had lit up for the first time at the mention of Cilla.
‘Are you closer to her than you are to your sister, or Shawn, or your other friends?’
‘Cilla is… She’s a completely different type of person. A free spirit. A wonderful positive person. Without judgement. She always makes me feel I could do anything, be anything. She encouraged me to build my own studio, and pursue the podcast. What’s that phrase, ride or die. She’s my ride or die,’ said Vicky.
‘Cilla was your teacher at drama school, and she’s in her early sixties. That’s quite an age gap,’ said Erika.
‘What does that have to do with anything?’
‘Is she married?’
‘No.’
‘Does she have children?’
Vicky hesitated, like she had to think about it.
‘Yes, she has a son who lives in America.’
‘And who is his father? If Cilla isn’t married?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Is the son married? Does he have children?’
Vicky sighed impatiently.
‘I think so… He has a couple of children. Yes, two girls.’
‘What are their names?’
There was a long pause. Vicky was starting to get flustered.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘What does this have to do with anything?’
‘Vicky, I’m trying to work this out. Cilla is someone who you feel closest to. Your ride or die. You ran away to her house far up in Scotland. And, yet you don’t seem to really know her,’ said Erika.
‘I do know her!’ said Vicky, raising her voice. ‘And I don’t have to justify my friendship with her to you. Maybe it’s because we’re so different that we can be friends. I feel like I can breathe when I’m around her. She doesn’t care about class, or money, or what other people think, and my fucking sister and my fucking life seems to be all about those things!’ she said, sitting back and shaking with anger.
‘Is that why you were drawn to Sophia? Because she thought differently?’ asked Erika.
‘Yes. She also had an overbearing sister, who expected things of her…’ Vicky broke down again and her head tipped forward as her shoulders shook. Moss leant closer and gave her a tissue. The canteen door opened with a creak, and Erika saw Melanie put her head around the door.
‘Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here,’ she said and she went to leave again. Erika looked back at Vicky and saw she had now melted into tears and sobbing. Moss moved closer and put out her hand to Vicky’s shoulder. She nodded to Erika.
‘Melanie. Can I just have a word?’ asked Erika, getting up and hurrying over to the door. She wanted to know what the hell Charles Wakefield had been doing at the station with the Assistant Commissioner.
Erika came out into the narrow corridor with Melanie, and closed the canteen door on Vicky’s soft sobbing.
‘Why was Charles Wakefield here?’ she asked.
Melanie folded her arms. ‘He was here to present a cheque to the Met police benevolent fund,’ she said. Erika noted she was dressed smarter than her usual attire, in a sleek back Chanel trouser suit.