‘Money in industrial farming,’ said Deepak, looking round.
Jessie looked at the glass and metal table in front of her. ‘Bet this table cost more than we both earn in a month,’ she said.
Deepak looked at it, grimacing. ‘Money doesn’t buy you taste,’ he said.
The door opened. In swept a woman; small, compact, dressed in a pink velour tracksuit and trainers that had never seen the outdoors or even the inside of a gym, hair pulled severely back from her face, no make-up. She walked briskly to the sofa opposite them, sat down, her back straight. Looked at them, her gaze businesslike.
‘I’m Dee Sloane. You asked to see my brother, Michael. I’m afraid he’s indisposed. And you are?’
Jessie and Deepak produced their warrant cards, gave their names.
‘And this is in connection with the death of one of our ex-employees?’
‘That’s right,’ said Jessie, taking the lead in the questioning. ‘There are a few things we’d like to talk to you about.’
Dee Sloane frowned. ‘Is this serious? Should I have a solicitor present?’
‘That’s up to you,’ said Deepak, as breezily as possible.
Jessie managed a smile. ‘Let’s see how we go.’
Dee sat there, waiting. Her face expressionless, her body straight, alert, but in repose. Receptive. Giving the impression that she was relaxed, waiting, but Jessie wasn’t fooled. She had learned how to interpret body language over the years, and she could see that Dee Sloane was seriously uncomfortable. On edge, even.
And there was something else. In the short space of time since Jessie had met the woman, she had taken an instant dislike to her. She tried not to do that, to pre-judge, especially in the course of her work. Sometimes she would feel it from a paedophile or rapist or wife-abuser, that creepily bad vibe, especially if they tried to be friendly and obsequious with her. Then she would have to work through that feeling in order to do her job properly. And that was the vibe that Dee Sloane was giving off. It might have been a chemical thing or a personality thing, but there was something about her that was not right. Jessie glanced at Deepak, tried to see if he was experiencing the same thing. But her partner’s gaze was impassive.
Right, thought Jessie. She had shaken off her hangover, banished all thoughts of the previous night. She was in the zone, ready to do her job.
63
Marina couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Not from Sandro. Her own brother. She would have expected it from the other one, but not from him. He was always the more decent of the two. The more reachable. He must have changed.
‘What? What …?’
‘I said no.’
‘But … but … I told you what’s happened … My baby, they’ve got my baby … ’
‘And they want you to do a psychological evaluation on some nutter, then they’ll give her back?’
She nodded.
He shrugged. ‘Then do it. What’s the problem?’
‘What did I just say? There’s a dead body and Josephina’s missing … ’
‘Why you anyway? And why go to all the trouble of snatching your kid to get you? Why not just phone you?’
‘I don’t know why. There must be something more to it, another reason.’
‘And you think I can do something about it?’
‘Yes! You know people. All right, maybe not the people who’ve done this, but … but they must have told somebody. Someone else must know.’ She leaned forward, grabbed his sleeve. ‘Please … please help me. My daughter’s gone, my husband’s … ’ She shook her head, not wanting to think about it. ‘Please … I’ve got no one.’
He looked at her, eyes locking, seeming to weaken. Then he pulled himself away from her, stood up. Began pacing the room, his back to her.
‘That’s a good one,’ he said, laughing. It wasn’t pleasant. ‘I’m all you’ve got.’ More walking. Nodding to himself as if two different conversations were going on in his head. ‘All you’ve got … ’ He turned to her. Pointed. ‘And where were you all these years? Eh? Where were you when I was on my own, when I was … ’ He shook his head angrily, as if trying to dislodge something. ‘Yeah. I know where you were. With your copper boyfriend.’ The words spat out. ‘Your university friends. Yeah. Didn’t want to know me then, did you? Didn’t want to know any of us.’ He turned away, began pacing once more.
‘Works two ways, Sandro,’ she said, getting out of bed, standing. ‘Where were you in my life all this time?’
He turned back to her. His face angry, red, right in hers. ‘You didn’t want me. You didn’t want any of us in your life. You made that perfectly clear. How we weren’t good enough for you.’
‘That’s … that’s not true … ’
‘Yes it fuckin’ is. You were ashamed of us. You said so.’
Marina said nothing. Sandro stared at her. Took her silence for assent.
‘Thought so.’ He gave another mirthless laugh. ‘Thought so … ’
The hurt was disappearing, replaced by anger. She wasn’t going to let him talk to her like that. ‘Yeah? Well maybe I did think I was better than the rest of you. And you know what? Maybe I was. Because I wanted to make something of my life. Do something. Not just be stuck in the house with that sick bastard smacking us around.’
Sandro said nothing. Turned away from her once more.
She followed him, not letting him alone. She tried to drop her voice, sound reasonable. ‘So now I’m here. And I’m asking for your help. Please.’
Another snort. ‘Please? Begging now? So you need my help and I’ve got to fuckin’ jump? Is that it? Click your fuckin’ fingers and I come runnin’? Yeah? Fuck you.’
She stared him down, eye to eye. ‘You sound just like Dad.’
He raised his arm, pulled it back. ‘I should give you the flat of my hand … ’
‘And now you are him. Just like Dad.’
She looked at him with undisguised contempt.
Something cracked behind Sandro’s eyes. ‘No I’m not. I’m not … ’ His voice wavered, like he was trying to convince himself. ‘I’m nothing like Dad … ’
She moved right up close to him. Almost whispering. ‘Then prove it. Prove you’re not.’
‘Shut up.’ He looked at her. Eyes soft, wet, like broken eggs.
‘Prove you’re not by helping me find my daughter.’
He tried to meet her gaze. Couldn’t. Turned away. ‘Just leave,’ he said. ‘Get out.’
Marina stayed where she was.
‘I said leave … ’ Sandro was almost snarling with anger.
‘Fine,’ she said, moving towards the door. ‘I’ll go. And you can stay here and live with yourself. Just like Dad and proud of it.’
‘Shut up … ’
She reached the door, turned. ‘I’m just glad our mother isn’t alive to see you do this.’
‘What?’ Sandro recoiled like he had been slapped.
‘You heard.’ She turned the handle.
Behind her, he sighed. It was like the last breath of a dying man. Or the first breath of a newborn. ‘OK.’
She turned. ‘Does that mean you’ll help?’
His hands went to his eyes. He couldn’t look at her.
‘What d’you want me to do?’
64
Jessie was just starting to question Dee Sloane. Deepak was next to her.
‘Do you drive a Fiat Punto?’
Dee Sloane’s eyes widened at the question. She hesitated. ‘No … What has this to do with the death of one of our ex-employees?’
Jessie ignored the question. ‘Does your brother Michael drive a Fiat Punto?’
‘No he doesn’t.’ She didn’t ask a question this time, just waited.