‘The gear costs a packet,’ said Joan, as she took cups from the cupboard. ‘Props, costumes she used for dancing. Big feather fans, head dresses. Mandy even moved to the back bedroom, so she’d have more room to store it all, didn’t you?’
‘The back bedroom’s nearer the loo, and I put her housekeeping up,’ clarified Mandy, as if she didn’t want it on record that it was a nice gesture. Erika couldn’t work out what was going on. Mandy seemed so matter-of-fact about Marissa’s death. Joan came over with mugs of tea.
‘Did Marissa have a serious boyfriend?’ Erika asked.
Mandy exhaled cigarette smoke with a long, silent chuckle.
‘They never seemed to hang around long enough to get serious. A lot of the local lads used to sniff around, and she had a few admirers who’d watch her dance, buy her presents…’ Erika and Tania exchanged a look. ‘I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but my daughter was a right slag. She slept with two blokes on this road, both married. And there were all sorts of lads coming and going, and those were the ones I knew of.’
‘Who were the married men?’ asked Erika.
‘Don Walpole, lives at number 46 with his wife. Marissa was shagging him a few years back, when she was sixteen…’
‘The rumour is, he was sleeping with her before her sixteenth birthday,’ interjected Joan, with a knowing nod.
‘Don Walpole ain’t no kiddy fiddler, Joan. He just did what any bloke would do when it’s offered up on a plate. Marissa was an early developer, by the time she was fourteen she looked twenty,’ said Mandy, lighting another cigarette with the stub of the old one.
‘And the other married man?’
‘Ivan… Whatsisface…’
‘Stowalski,’ said Joan.
‘Yeah. He’s Polish. Got a few quid in the bank, so I think that’s why she liked him. He’s certainly not good looking. Pale and washed-out as anything, he is. He’s been around for a few months.’
‘Do you know when she last saw him?’
‘No. He rang the bell a few weeks ago, but he didn’t come in.’
‘Marissa worked full-time as a burlesque dancer?’
Mandy shook her head. ‘No. She also did a few hours a week as a carer for an old lady, in Hilly Fields over the way.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Elsa Fryatt,’ said Joan. ‘She’s ninety-seven. Very posh, despite the name Elsa. Lives in one of the big houses overlooking the fields.’
‘Marissa was onto a nice number there,’ said Mandy. ‘All she did was took her shopping; she got herself insured on the old girl’s car. It wasn’t proper caring work. I think she liked having Marissa around, much like a woman likes a bit of rough in a bloke. I think she finds common people quite entertaining.’
‘What about her friends?’ asked Erika.
‘I would think most of her friends are dead, didn’t you hear? She’s ninety-seven.’
‘No, I meant Marissa,’ said Erika.
Mandy exhaled smoke and took a big gulp of tea. ‘The girls she works with on the burlesque circuit are a bunch of bitches, that’s what Marissa used to say, but she’s got a friend she’s had since school. Works up the hairdresser, Sharon-Louise Braithwaite.’
‘The Goldilocks Hair Studio?’
‘Yes, that’s it.’
‘Could I ask you to make a list of the clubs where Marissa worked?’
Mandy’s bottom lip trembled and she wiped at her eyes.
‘Bloody hell, I can’t think straight to make lists, and all this talking in the past tense: worked, lived…’
‘We can get to that later,’ said Tania, touching Mandy’s arm.
‘When can I go back to my house?’ she said, pulling it away.
‘The forensics officers are inside to make sure there isn’t any other evidence that can help. We will let you know as soon as we’ve completed our investigation,’ said Erika. ‘Would you like Tania to find you somewhere to stay?’
‘No, I’ll stay here, with Joan,’ said Mandy. Joan nodded, but she didn’t look too thrilled.
Seven
‘What did you make of that?’ asked Erika, pulling up the collar of her coat, as she and Tania left Joan’s house.
‘Grief displays itself in different ways,’ said Tania.
Erika frowned.
‘Leave it out, don’t give me hot air. You see a lot of grieving relatives. There was real hostility there.’
‘From both of them, although I think Joan was being led by Mandy. Mandy wears the trousers, and had the most dislike for her daughter.’
‘Not everyone that gets murdered is loved by their relatives.’
‘You think the mother is a suspect?’
‘Everyone is a suspect. I want forensics to take a look at her clothes, and I’d like swabs taken from under her fingernails…’ Erika beckoned to a young uniformed officer, who looked worried as she crossed the street to the front gate. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Kay Hornby, PC Kay Hornby, ma’am,’ she said.
‘I need you to grab one of the CSIs and bag up the clothes and get fingernail swabs from the victim’s mother, Mandy Trent.’
‘Yes, ma’am... Erm, I have a spare pair of trainers in my car,’ she said, noticing Erika’s heels, which were soaked and on the verge of disintegrating. Erika looked down at the young woman’s feet, clad in black shoes.
‘What size shoe are you?’
‘A six. They’re not stinking gym shoes. I use them for driving. It was just a thought, ma’am.’ She looked worried, as if she’d overstepped the mark.
‘Thank you. I’d appreciate that,’ said Erika.
‘Absolutely, ma’am. I’ll just run and get them.’
Erika’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and moved off along the street.
‘Where the hell are you?’ said Marsh. ‘It’s almost four o’clock!’
‘Sorry. I was called to a crime scene. A young woman killed on her doorstep on Coniston Road, near Crofton Park.’
‘You weren’t on call today.’
‘I’m helping out, loads of officers have taken leave over Christmas…’
‘I know that!’
‘I’m just explaining to you why I’m here.’
‘I was expecting you for lunch.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. I won’t be coming. I’ve got presents for the girls, so I’ll arrange to drop them round later…’
‘I said: I was expecting you for lunch.’
‘That’s an order, is it?’
‘No. I just wanted to see you; Marcie and the girls wanted to see you…’
Marsh paused. The silence went on, and then Erika realised he had hung up on her. She put the phone back in her pocket, feeling guilty. She crossed the road to the support van, where Kay was waiting with a pair of pink and white running shoes.
‘Thank you,’ said Erika.
‘There’s socks too, in the shoes.’
Erika took off her ruined high heels and Kay held onto her arm as she pulled on the socks and trainers. ‘Ahh, that’s so much better. Thank you.’