Not far to turn, maybe a couple of degrees, judging by what James Raleigh had said about the family set-up.
‘But I kept trying. I rang her every week. Sometimes we’d have a chat, depending what mood she was in. Sometimes – when he was there, I reckon – she’d just hang up on me.’
She couldn’t even bring herself to use Sean’s name, Rachel noted. ‘When you rang her on Monday, what happened?’ she asked.
Denise slowly closed her eyes, defeat plain in her expression. ‘She said she was busy.’
‘Did you ring for any particular reason?’
‘I wanted to ask her about the rehab, if she’d talked to Mr Raleigh about it, but I never got the chance.’
‘I’m afraid we can’t return Lisa’s possessions to you yet,’ Rachel said.
‘Where did you find it?’ Denise said.
‘I can’t tell you that at the moment. It may be of significance to the inquiry.’
‘What’s happening with him – Sean?’ she said.
‘Your FLO will have explained to you-’ Rachel began.
‘Don’t you think I’ve a right to know?’ She was getting angry.
‘You will be the first to be informed if any charges are brought.’
Denise shook her head, chewing at her lip, deep grooves etched in her forehead. As though Rachel’s answer really wasn’t good enough.
What would she have left to remember her daughter? A broken necklace. The handful of pictures on the living-room shelves. The scarf Lisa gave her for her birthday. The few memories from all the years they had been apart or those together in an uneasy truce.
Christmas coming. And both her kids dead since this time last year. Had Lisa been round last Christmas? Had the three of them sat down as a family at Denise’s, or had Lisa spent the day at Ryelands? Christmas had always been a minefield in the Bailey household. The kids desperate to enjoy it, Dad in danger of getting drunk and sentimental or drunk and short-tempered. Alison playing Mother, determined that they would have a good time. Paying into the Christmas Club some years, getting enough to buy selection boxes and a turkey and a silver plastic tree with lights from Woolies. Rachel going along with it, more for Dom’s sake than her own. But under the surface, acutely aware that each winter marked another year without so much as a card. Christmas, the time of the nativity, seemed to mock the hole at the heart of their family. The quality of presents veered wildly. Usually they got sweets and pocket-money toys: catapult, skipping rope, yo-yos, knock-off Tamagotchi. But some years there were more extravagant offerings, if he’d won on the horses or succumbed to stuff off the back of a lorry doing the rounds dirt cheap. One year’s windfall netted them a table football set. Rachel and Dom spent most of Christmas morning fixing it together. It’d been a great toy. They had tournaments – all four of them, sometimes. One of the few Christmases that she could look back on with affection.
Until the end of March, when the final demand for the gas bill arrived and he flogged it to the next-door neighbours, shamefaced and sorry as he told the kids that he had no choice.
24
THE MOTHER HAD identified the cross and chain as belonging to her daughter. Gill asked Lee for the exhibit, she wanted to talk to Phil Sweet and Ranjeet Lateesh about it and the mark on Lisa’s neck.
‘It could have come off in the struggle,’ Ranjeet agreed. ‘Someone yanked it hard enough to snap the chain.’
‘Test for DNA traces,’ Gill said.
Phil picked up the exhibits bag. ‘There’s a reasonable chance of material being trapped within the links, or on the cross. In fact, if we dust we might get partial prints off the cross, too – it’s quite broad here, and that’s the part you’d pull at.’ He made the gesture with his hand. ‘It’s a shame it was removed from the crime scene; that could have contaminated any traces.’
‘Well, have a go,’ Gill said. ‘We’ve still nothing forensically on Sean Broughton. I don’t want a case that’s based on circumstance.’
‘Will Gerry approve it?’ Phil asked.
‘He’d bloody better,’ Gill said.
Benny Broughton’s appropriate adult arrived. Her role was to ensure that Benny understood the questions being put to him and to be there to support him during the interview process.
‘We want to talk to you about this phone, Benny.’ Janet put Lisa’s phone, in its exhibits bag, on the table. ‘Have you seen it before?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘When did you see it?’
‘On Tuesday. Sean said he wanted to sell it. And sometimes I do that.’
‘What do you do?’
‘Sell phones. To Desmond,’ he said.
‘Right. This phone – Sean showed it to you?’
‘Yes, and I said, “Desmond”, and Sean wanted me to take it but it was freezing and I didn’t want to go.’
‘So what happened then?’
‘He thumped me, said I was a mong, and I said, “Well, I’m not going now.” And that’s the truth. And I didn’t.’ He pursed his lips, still wounded by the treatment.
‘And what did Sean do after that?’
‘He went. I give him the address.’
‘What can you tell me about Monday?’
He looked stumped.
‘In the morning, did you go to the job centre?’ Janet said.
‘Oh yes,’ he agreed. ‘We signed on. And then we came back to the house.’
‘And what did you do next?’
He pulled a face. ‘Just hung out.’
‘Did you do anything else, apart from hanging out?’
‘I had to go to Dusty’s to do the carpet.’
‘Who’s Dusty?’
‘My cousin.’
‘What time did you go?’ Janet said.
‘I had to be there for quarter past three and not be late, so I went at three o’clock and I wasn’t late. I was early,’ he said cheerily.
‘Thank you, Benny. When you left to go to Dusty’s, where was Sean?’
‘In the living room.’
‘At your house?’
‘Yes,’ he sniffed. ‘He was in a bad mood. Because she was late and she should’ve been back and she wasn’t.’
‘Do you mean Lisa?’ Janet said.
‘Yes, she was late.’
‘And he was in a bad mood, just because she was late?’
‘He was, you know…’ For the first time he became coy, hesitant.
‘What?’ Janet said.
Benny twitched his shoulders, sniffed again. ‘He needed his stuff.’
‘You mean drugs, Benny?’
‘Yeah. She was bringing it.’
‘What time did you get back from Dusty’s?’
‘Not till late, about half nine.’
‘Did you know Lisa?’ Janet said.
‘Not really. She never came to ours much. Met her, you know.’
‘Did Sean say anything to you about Lisa, on Monday night?’
‘He said she was dead, someone had stabbed her.’ He looked crestfallen.
‘Anything else?’ Janet said.
‘No.’
‘Was he upset?’
‘Yeah, really upset, but then he had some stuff and nodded off.’
‘He had some drugs?’ From Lisa? Taken from her, from the flat?
‘Yeah,’ he yawned.
‘Do you know if he got them from Lisa?’
‘Dunno. Probably.’
‘Since then,’ Janet said, ‘has Sean said anything else to you about Lisa?’
‘No.’
‘Did Sean do any washing?’
Benny looked blank, probably wasn’t familiar with the concept. ‘Did he wash any clothes that day?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘When you came home, did you see any wet clothes anywhere, or any laundry bags?’
He thought. ‘No,’ he said finally.
‘Did Sean make a fire? Burn anything?’
‘No,’ he laughed, the idea tickled him.
‘Did you see any clothes in the rubbish bin?’
He shook his head.
Nothing there to suggest Sean had changed his clothes at the house, though he might have been wise enough to hide them well. If so, the team would find them. They’d not found anything yet, but they’d take the place apart. Still, there was increasing uncertainty about the clothes. From a call to the jobcentre, Andy had obtained CCTV of Sean and Benny attending their Jobseeker’s appointments. That footage told them that Sean was wearing a dark Puffa jacket with a hood, jeans and black-and-white trainers. They couldn’t tell what top he wore under the coat, but the rest of his outfit matched the clothes retained as exhibits when Sean had reported finding the body. That made it less likely that he had changed clothes that afternoon.