‘Una left a voicemail on my phone that night. Said she had something to tell me.’
‘It must have been about the bag.’
‘The bag?’
‘Jemima’s holdall. It was in the cellar. Una found it and was convinced Kathryn had put it there. She also said that the cook, Aggie, heard Kathryn and Jemima arguing on the night Jemima left. Una said Aggie had been freaked out by the bag, too, and urged Una to report it to the police. I’ve since reported it but the bag is now missing, so it’s my word against theirs.’
‘The daughter, Kathryn, is hiding something, I’m sure of it,’ says Peter, his eyes flashing. ‘The necklace … Why did she pretend she was going to post it to Jemima when she never had a forwarding address? Why did she have all her stuff in their cellar?’
Courtney opens her mouth to say something and Kris emits a bark of laughter.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says when they both swivel around to glare at him. ‘But this is just one big conspiracy theory. If the police think their deaths are not suspicious why are you two acting like bloody …’ he pauses, and Courtney can almost see his brain ticking overtime, trying to think of someone to compare them to ‘… Shakespeare and Hathaway?’
Courtney swallows a giggle at Peter’s perplexed expression. Kris watches too much daytime TV. She’s simultaneously irritated and amused by him in equal measure.
‘I think their deaths are suspicious,’ says Peter, seriously. She’s noticed he still hasn’t taken off his jacket, which puffs out around him, making him seem bigger than he is. He looks uncomfortable on the hard chair. ‘The police didn’t know Jemima.’ He gestures to Courtney, ‘And they didn’t know Una. We did. It was obvious by what she told Courtney that she was lured to the bridge because she thought she was meeting me. Why have the police never found the person who sent the text?’
‘So you think you know more than the police?’ Kris says, and Courtney cringes, no longer amused. He’s being too confrontational.
Peter sighs and pushes back his fringe. ‘The police are working with facts. Because Una’s phone is missing, they haven’t seen a text from someone pretending to be me. So, to them, it doesn’t exist. It’s all hearsay from us.’
Kris throws his hands into the air. ‘Don’t get me wrong, man, I’m really sorry about your sister. And Una. She was a friend and her death has shaken me too. But I can’t believe she was murdered. It’s just an unfortunate coincidence.’
‘There’s something else,’ says Peter, glancing at Courtney, as though Kris hasn’t spoken. ‘Something the police told me yesterday.’
Courtney sits up straighter in her seat and leans towards him.
‘A witness has come forward to say they saw a girl matching Jemima’s description that night.’
‘Where?’
‘Getting out of a van on the Leigh Woods side of the bridge apparently.’
‘A van?’
He nods. ‘It might not mean anything. She might have been getting a lift with a friend, but they need to talk to the owner of this van to eliminate – that’s the word they used – them from their enquiries.’
Courtney takes a sip of her lukewarm wine.
Kris reclines in his seat, hands behind his head. ‘I just can’t see why someone would deliberately target these girls. I mean … why?’
‘That,’ says Peter, ‘is what I intend to find out.’
32
Willow
I’ve put Elspeth to bed and I’m up in my room going through my washing （Elspeth said I can give it to the cleaner, Carole, to do for me） when Courtney calls to tell me about her meeting with Peter.
‘He’s really lovely,’ she says, her voice softening.
I want to tell her not to trust him. Not to trust anybody. But I feel bad about bursting her bubble. She fills me in on all of it, making me laugh when she describes how annoyingly Kris was acting. ‘That’s interesting about the van,’ I say. ‘Was there any identifying feature on it?’
‘No. I don’t think so. I think it was a generic white van, from what Peter was saying. But listen, Willow, we’ve decided – that is, me and Peter – that the priority is to try to work out where Kathryn has hidden Jemima’s bag. If we can find that …’
‘I know. I know. Evidence.’
I end the call after promising I’ll help. I search everywhere: in the back of the wardrobe, under the bed, in the chest of drawers, even though I know it’s not there – it was empty when I arrived. I go into the en-suite. There’s not much room in here. Not even a bath panel to conceal a bag. I open the vanity unit under the sink. The cupboard is quite small and I get on my hands and knees and almost crawl into it. The back of the cupboard is broken, the back panel doesn’t quite align. I push my hand against it and peer closer, coughing as I dislodge dust motes. Yes, it would be big enough to hide a bag. I slide my hand behind the panel and feel about, but there’s nothing. I retreat, banging my head on the sink as I stand up. Damn it. If Una hid the bag anywhere in this room I bet it was there. I tap out a text to Courtney telling her this.