Harland got to his feet.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I will.’

He opened the door to leave. Behind him, Blake tapped the report again.

‘Quickly and cleanly, Graham.’

8

Wednesday, 30 May

Mendel was waiting for him outside the interview room. Harland looked up at the flickering fluorescent light that disturbed the stillness of the empty corridor.

‘So who is she?’ he asked, nodding towards the door.

‘Claire Downing, victim’s best friend,’ Mendel replied. ‘I’ve been over the basics with her but when I heard you were here I thought you might want to sit in for a few minutes.’

‘Thanks,’ said Harland. ‘How’s she doing?’

Mendel shrugged. ‘A bit emotional, but nothing serious.’

‘Did you ask about boyfriends?’

‘I thought you might want to do that.’

‘Fine.’

Harland opened the door and walked into the cramped little room. Claire was sitting at the small table – late twenties, red hair in a bob, a blue jacket that looked a size too tight for her build. He made himself smile as she stared up at him, and extended his hand.

‘Good afternoon, Claire. I’m Detective Inspector Harland.’

‘Hi.’ She took his hand uncertainly and shook it.

‘We appreciate you taking the time to come over.’ He noticed the cup of tea, untouched, on the table in front of her. ‘Did you want another drink?’

‘No, I’m fine thanks.’

Harland sat down next to Mendel.

‘So, my sergeant tells me that you and Vicky knew each other well?’

Claire’s expression softened and she looked down.

‘Yeah, that’s right.’ She was gently twisting the strap of her handbag around her fingers. ‘We used to share a house together in Montpelier.’

‘Really?’ There was no hurry. Allow her to settle into the conversation with something comfortable. The past was an easier place to begin.

‘It was in Purton Road. One of the old houses with massive high ceilings . . .’ A faint smile as she recalled it. ‘We were only there eighteen months but we’ve been mates for ages.’

‘When did you meet?’

‘Six or seven years ago. I’d signed up for this dance class and she started the same night as me. We got on really well right from the beginning.’

‘But it was a while before you actually shared a place together?’

‘Yeah. We talked about it loads of times before we actually did it.’

‘When did she move out of Purton Road?’

‘Oh, that was about . . .’ Claire considered for a moment, then shook her head in mild surprise. ‘It must be almost two years ago now. Doesn’t seem that long . . .’

Harland gave an understanding nod.

‘And then did she move in with a boyfriend or . . .?’ He left it hanging.

‘No, it was her mum.’ Claire raised her head. ‘The place in Severn Beach belonged to Vicky’s mum and she left it to her when she died. It was really sad. Cancer.’

‘Sorry to hear that.’

‘Yeah, her mum wasn’t even that old. Vicky was ever so good with her, looking after her and all that . . . and she was doing the marathon this year, raising money for breast cancer . . .’

She trailed off, eyes focused on something far away. Harland steered her gently back from the edge.

‘So, there wasn’t a boyfriend?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Claire nodded. ‘She was seeing a guy called Simon. He was all right at first – Vicky really liked him – but I don’t reckon he was all that supportive when her mum died. People need looking after when they lose someone, you know?’

Harland knew. For a moment he was in a different place, wrapped in a darkness too deep for tears, but he managed to keep his face steady as he struggled back to the surface.

‘So she ended it?’

‘Not sure. They just saw less and less of each other, and then after a while she said it was over.’ Claire frowned. ‘I don’t reckon she dumped him, though – she was really gutted about him for a while. He probably just couldn’t cope with all the upset after her mum died.’

Harland understood. He remembered the friends who became more and more insistent (‘If there’s anything we can do, Graham . . .’) but spent less and less time with him. When the numbness had gone, he found he was alone. Nobody wanted to endure the awkward atmosphere that clung to him, to the house where they’d lived. Sympathy was easier than support.

‘It must have been a difficult time,’ he said quietly. Then, gathering himself, ‘What was Simon’s last name?’

‘Matthews, I think . . .’ She looked thoughtful, then her eyes widened a little. ‘But you don’t think he did it, do you? Not Simon!’

Harland held up his hand in a calming gesture.

‘I simply want to know Vicky a bit better so I can find out what happened to her, that’s all. These are just the standard questions that we ask – right, Sergeant?’

Mendel looked up and agreed with an earnest nod. Claire looked wary but settled slowly back into her chair.

‘So, after Simon, did she see anyone else?’

‘No. Well, I think she quite liked one of the guys at work for a while, but he was married. And anyway, she was concentrating on fixing the house up, always painting and stuff. She wanted to sell it and move back into Bristol, but it needed a lot doing to it first.’

‘Did she enjoy her work?’

‘Oh yeah, she loved it. She joined them ages ago – before we moved in together – working her way up the ladder. I’ve had three different jobs in that time but she was happy where she was. A really nice bunch of people by the sound of things.’

Harland maintained an encouraging smile as he listened to her, slowly piecing together the picture, first of Vicky, then of Claire – work, friends, family – but nothing stood out. Eventually, with the room becoming claustrophobic, he decided to bring the session to an end.

‘And when did you last see Vicky?’

‘We had coffee together last Thursday.’ Claire began toying with her handbag again. ‘We’d often do that – meet up at Starbucks near the station, or go and sit in the park at lunchtime if the weather was nice . . .’

‘And how did she seem to you? Anything unusual?’

‘She just seemed really happy.’ Her voice was plaintive now. ‘Everything was going well for her at work, and we were making plans to go out this weekend.’

Her shoulders sagged and she sat, staring down into her lap, murmuring, ‘She was really looking forward to it . . .’

Harland caught Mendel’s eye, then deliberately pushed his chair back from the table.

‘You’ve been a great help, Claire,’ he said softly. ‘It’s been really useful for me to learn more about Vicky, and I appreciate it.’

Claire sniffed and smiled at him.

Mendel pulled the door closed and stood under the flickering light.

‘Well?’ he said after a moment. ‘What do you reckon?’

‘I think we’re further away now than when we started.’ Harland sighed.

‘What about the ex-boyfriend?’

‘Let’s track him down and see where he was at the relevant time, but he doesn’t seem too likely, does he?’

Mendel shrugged. ‘Who else is there?’

‘Speak to the people at her work,’ Harland replied. ‘Find out about this married guy she liked, and see if there’s anything that jumps out – you know what to look for.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’ll see if there’s anything new from Forensics, and then I’m done for the day.’

‘Yeah.’ Mendel grinned. ‘Firth said you were in early this morning. Go home and put your feet up, eh?’

‘That’s the plan,’ Harland smiled. But it wasn’t. His smile faded as he turned and stalked away down the corridor.

Harland parked two streets away and walked. Dennel Road was mercifully quiet but he still hesitated as he approached the building. He checked his watch, but he wasn’t early – it was time. Taking one last look around, he mounted the steps quickly and pushed open the heavy door.

There was an oppressive stillness about the empty waiting room. He sifted through the pile of women’s magazines on the table until he found the token men’s car monthly, then retired to a chair to wait.