Читать книгу West of the River - David Dalby - Страница 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Helen Trent lived nearer the entrance to Keys Court. So far as Hazel could tell the house looked much the same as the others. This was a very uniform, ordered area.

She rang the bell, but hadn’t the lengthy wait ahead of her that she’d had for Mitchell. Helen Trent was younger and more active. Also, she’d probably been sitting watching Hazel.

Although about half Mitchell’s age Helen Trent was a few years older than Hazel, close on twenty centimetres shorter and a number of kilogrammes heavier. She was crammed into a thick blue sweater and the kind of elasticated waist pants that television shopping channels like to sell. “You’re the police are you?” She didn’t give Hazel’s warrant card more than a brief passing glance. “I wondered when they’d send someone who knows what they’re doing. All it takes is some kid to get away with murder.”

“Could I come in, Mrs Trent?”

“Yes.” Helen Trent said, “You could.” But she stepped back to allow Hazel entry. “I saw you talking to that police constable. Then you went to Mr Mitchell’s house.”

“How do you know I wasn’t a reporter?”

“You didn’t have a camera. Besides, reporters wouldn’t get in a car with a police officer. They might not get let out again.”

“Is there a Mr Mitchell?” Hazel said.

“Yes, but he didn’t see anything so there’s not much point talking to him. He’s at work anyway.”

The house, inside was clean and tidy. Hazel assumed no one here had any children. “What does your husband do?” She was led through to the lounge. The Trent’s were well equipped with modern electronic gadgets. Desk computer, laptop, a tablet on a coffee table. 3D smart TV with several boxes plugged in.

“He’s involved in banking the same as I am.” Helen said, “Have a seat…what was your name again?”

“Sergeant Vernon.” Hazel said, sitting down, “Crime Squad.”

“Does that mean the police are finally taking Gloria’s death seriously? Now that little bitch got away with murder.”

Hazel sat. Helen sat opposite.

“Do you believe the police didn’t take it seriously?” Hazel wasn’t sure of that accusation. Though unprofessional and incompetent were words that sprang readily to mind.

“The idiot detective they sent last time wasn’t much use.” Helen said, “Detective Sergeant something or other.”

“White?”

“Might have been. Sounds about right.” Helen dismissed Sergeant White’s memory casually. “He had his own ideas. I don’t think he cared what I told him.”

Hazel was now not at all surprised Hannah McShane had been acquitted. Hazel was starting to think she could have got the girl off given the mess the local CID had made of it all.

If Hannah was here at all, said a cautious voice at the back of her head. Remember the last witness and how reliable he turned out to be.

“What can you tell me, Ms Trent?” Hazel said.

“I can tell you I saw that little tralk running away being chased by the security guard. I saw her from my bedroom window.”

“About what time?”

“Quarter to three, more or less. I noticed the clock alarm.”

“You were awake at that time in the morning?”

“Of course I wasn’t awake. The shouting woke me up. Outside in the street. I was asleep and I was woken up by a lot of voices shouting in the street outside. So I went to see what all the fuss was. I looked out of the window and in the street I saw that girl running away. The security guard was chasing her. She had a head start on him though so she got away.”

“Round the corner?”

“I expect so, you can’t see too clearly from the angle I was at.” Helen said.

“But you recognised Hannah McShane?” Hazel said. “Have you ever seen her before?”

“Why would I have seen her before?”

“Has she ever been here before?”

Helen Trent looked offended, “Does this look like the sort of place that would have someone like that around? Of course she wasn’t here before. That’s what I told the other detective. Not that he took any notice.”

So far Hazel had unreliable witnesses giving contradictory evidence. Helen Trent was far more believable than Thomas Mitchell but not by a lot.

“You’ve never seen Hannah McShane here?”

“Never. I hope never to see her anywhere else ever again.”

“What was Gloria Kelsey like?” Hazel said.

“Very nice, a lovely woman. She was a photographer. She had a studio in town. On Lewton Street. I saw a bit of her now and then. She’d come to the residents association meetings every month.”

“Have you ever been to her house?”

“Frequently.” Helen said. “She was a very sociable woman.”

“Have you ever met any of her friends?”

“One or two. I dropped in one evening and had a word with her and a lovely woman vicar. Scottish church, you know.”

Hazel didn’t know and wasn’t really a believer. “Anyone else?”

“Apart from the neighbours, oh there were a few people. I think she had friends over on a regular basis. At the end of the month. There were always a few cars here. Nothing big or rowdy, you know. But that was Gloria. Very sociable. She’d have the neighbours round every now and then.”

“Did you know any of her friends? The ones that would come round to see her?”

“Well there was her daughter, of course. Karen. She’s a student. Studying… I forget what. She came round quite a lot. Lovely girl. I don’t know why she doesn’t live here. She has a caravan up at the caravan park. Young people will have their independence won’t they?”

Hazel nodded. At thirty four she hardly considered herself old.

“Alan Fairburn came every month. With his wife.”

“The politician?” Hazel said. Fairburn was the Federal Party member of parliament for the area. “You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. You do know Gloria did all the advertising material for his campaign, don’t you?”

Hazel didn’t know and said so.

“Yes, she’s been a member of the Federal Party for…well…I don’t know how long but it’s been years.”

“I didn’t know she was politically active.”

“You make it sound dangerous.”

Hazel considered the low opinion she, and many others, held of politicians. “Did you ever meet him? Or his wife?”

“No, well, not at Gloria’s of course. I wouldn’t impose like that. I’ve met Mr Fairburn in his surgery a few times and his wife, of course, is involved with a lot of charities. She’s the daughter of Lord Brougham you know.” Helen correctly pronounced the name as “Broom”

“I did know that.”

“Yes, she’s involved in a lot of good works. The women’s refuge place across the railway. I think that vicar Gloria knew runs it. She said something or other about it anyway. It’s not just women. Some of them are homeless girls or girls that have found themselves in some kind of trouble. Wouldn’t surprise me if the bitch that killed her was one of them. I bet they’re all on drugs. That’s what happens when you help these people. They bite the hand that feeds them People like that don’t know any better you see.”

“I’ll remember that.” Hazel said. But it was an interesting idea all the same. If any girl qualified as disturbed it would be Hannah McShane. “Do you know any of the other people?”

“No, they seemed very nice. They had expensive cars. But who they are and where they come from I don’t know.”

“Did Ms Kelsey have any other regular visitors?”

“She often had people over, but I wouldn’t say regular visitors.”

“There wasn’t a Mr Kelsey then?”

“Her husband. No. He went off with his secretary or someone ages ago. She was probably better off without him.”

“Did she have a regular boyfriend?”

“You know, I don’t know.” For once Helen’s certainly faltered. “She never said anything about anyone in particular. I never saw her go out with anyone in particular.”

“Would she have told you?”

“Probably. We were very friendly and she was sociable. No, now you come to mention it she didn’t have a special man in her life. She was probably too busy working.”

“She never mentioned any problems, did she? Nuisance phone calls? Any threatening emails? Strange people hanging around.”

“We have a security guard to make sure strange people don’t hang around here.” Helen said. “And no, she never mentioned anything like that. Why are you asking all these questions, you know who killed her. Hannah McShane.”

“It’s all just routine, Mrs Trent.” Hazel said

“It’s all just foolishness. If you’re after new evidence I can’t tell you anything I didn’t tell that other detective.”

Yes, and Hazel knew what she thought of him.

“No, I don’t know of any threats, strange people, harassment….we don’t get those things here. Or we didn’t. Sometimes I think this place should be gates as Carandini Court is. They never get trouble there.”

Hazel was inclined to believe Carandini Court never got any trouble because the local gangster, Victor Monk had a house there. “Thanks for your time, Mrs Trent. If I need anything else I’ll know where to find you.”

Hazel left, feeling unsatisfied. Neither witness was entirely reliable. Helen Trent was better, but not by much. She stood in the road and watched a dark red Range Rover with tinted windows roll by. She made a note of the licence plate. It was similar to the one she’d seen the other day.

Someone was very interested in her investigation.

 * *

Hannah McShane watched the cars drive away. She stepped out from behind the low wall where she had been crouched. Hannah was a small, slightly built teenager. Very pale skinned and blonde hair so fair it was close to colourless. She wore thick spectacles, though not as a disguise. She could barely see beyond her own nose. She hadn’t worn them in court because she didn’t like the glasses. Ever since she was twelve she had to wear the bloody things.

She wore a thick, fleece lined khaki anorak with the hood down. This city had Godawful weather. All the time. Her skirt was short and she wore knee length boots because that’s what she believed was sexy. Hands deep in her pockets she contemplated what she had seen.

In truth she hadn’t seen anything. A cop she didn’t know was checking up on people she had never met. Hannah knew all the police round here. That woman hadn’t been like any she’d seen before. Well she had Victor Monk’s people after her.

Hannah tried to work out what that meant. Probably that Monk didn’t know who killed Gloria and was keeping an eye on the cops. Monk scared her, though she’d never seen him. She did know some people who worked for him and they were creepy. At least none of them had come looking for her. She’d kept her ears open but there was no one looking. No one even interested.

Bernadette had said that would be the case. Hannah hadn’t been too sure at first. People said a lot of stuff that wasn’t true. They said they’d do stuff but they never did.

Bernadette McLaren was different. She didn’t lie to you. She didn’t say she’d do something, then not bother. Hannah knew she could trust Bernie. Sure she was a bit strange, but she was religious.

On one level Hannah was more scared of Bernadette McLaren than she was of Victor Monk. Not because Hannah believed in Heaven or Hell. In any case Bernie never talked that way to her. Or anyone that she knew. Bernie was scary because, if she did think Hannah was guilty, she’d turn her over to the police in a heartbeat.

Still, Bernie didn’t believe she was guilty. Had fixed her up with a lawyer and everything. Even got her off. OK, Hannah was innocent anyway, but Bernie had probably helped get the right result.

With any luck she’d also told the cops to keep off Hannah’s back for a while. Or Monk had. Hannah didn’t know who the cops were more scared of. Monk or Bernie.

Now there was this new cop. Hannah didn’t like the look of this.

She moved away from The Keys. Maybe it would make sense to keep a low profile until it all blew over.

Hands in her pockets, head down against the threatening rain, Hannah McShane moved away.