Slider said, ‘I know exactly what you mean. I have a daughter myself.’ He was surprised at himself for offering the fact, but he felt her dilemma acutely. ‘If it helps, I don’t think it was a random killing.’
‘Oh?’ She was surprised, and didn’t know quite how to take it. ‘I thought I read that you’d arrested some awful serial killer.’
‘We have to follow lines of enquiry as they arise. They don’t all lead to the right conclusion. In fact, I believe now that the killer knew Zellah.’
‘They do say,’ she said introspectively, ‘that it’s more often someone the victim knows.’
‘That’s true,’ Slider said.
‘I don’t know that it makes me feel any safer,’ she concluded.
‘I sometimes wonder,’ Slider said, ‘whether feeling safe isn’t a modern luxury we’ve got used to comparatively recently. Historically, life was always dangerous and uncertain.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said with the brief, tight smile again. ‘But the fact is we have got used to it. Well, I mustn’t keep you. You’ll want to talk to Frieda. She’s upstairs studying. I’ll just turn the gas down and go and fetch her. You can talk to her in the lounge – I expect you’d sooner be alone with her?’
Slider was impressed by her understanding and generosity. ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘No, I know there are things girls won’t say in front of their parents. You’ll try not to frighten her, though, won’t you? No gory details or anything?’
‘Of course not; nothing like that. I shan’t mention the murder itself. I only want to talk to her about what Zellah was like.’
She nodded, but with a penetrating look that both sought reassurance and threatened reprisal if he got it wrong. She led him through into the lounge, an expensively, rather heavily furnished room, well-kept and comfortable but not the least fashionable. There were framed photographs on every surface; an upright piano against one wall, open and with music on the stand as if it were regularly used; bright dahlias put, rather than arranged, in a vase on the windowsill. A gas coal-effect fire occupied the grate under the 1930s mantelpiece, and the dog, who followed them in, lay down on the rug in front of it as though it were his habitual spot. The cat pranced in too, sprang up on to the back of an armchair and arched its back, inviting caress. Everything here spoke of a family home, of belonging and care and custom, of a little interknit tribe pursuing its innocent routines. It was so different from the Wildings’ jarring, comfortless mismatch. Here was a small haven of a world, built inside the larger chaos of a great metropolis and the twenty-first century. He hoped desperately that nothing bad would ever come to blast it open.
In a little while Mrs Mossman appeared at the door and ushered in a small, plumpish girl with frizzy hair and glasses, wearing blue cotton Capri pants and a plain white T-shirt. She looked at Slider uncertainly, her bare toes curling for comfort into the carpet pile.
‘This is Frieda,’ Mrs Mossman said. ‘Frieda, this is Detective Inspector Slider. He wants to talk to you about Zellah. You must talk to him absolutely honestly, darling. I shall be in the kitchen if you want me.’ She looked at Slider. ‘Do you mind dogs? Shall I take him away?’
‘I like dogs,’ Slider said. He thought its presence would be comforting to the girl. ‘He’s fine. What’s his name?’
‘Barney.’ The dog looked up and beat his tail at the sound of his name. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ Mrs Mossman said, and departed.
Frieda remained at the door, watching Slider alertly, like an animal poised for flight. She seemed pale, and looked as though she had been crying a lot recently. She appeared younger than seventeen, and there was little under her T-shirt to disturb the shape of it. Her plump face was still a child’s, her whole posture unaware of the power of the female body. He looked with sympathy at the impossible hair and the strong glasses. He imagined Sophy’s cruel remarks and the hurt they had caused: behind the lenses, the eyes, intensely dark as coffee beans, were intelligent. There was nothing wrong with her features: she had good skin, and one day she would switch to contacts, subdue her hair and be as attractive as the next girl, but there was no use in saying that to a teenage girl. His own daughter thought she had a big nose, and when she looked in the mirror that was all she saw. We all have to pin our disappointments on something.
‘Come and sit down,’ he said. He sat himself in one of the armchairs. It was the one the cat was decorating, and it jumped down at once on to his lap and started kneading bread. The sound of its purr filled the room like the sound of a trapped bumble bee.
‘He likes you,’ Frieda said. Her voice was light and small, as though she was trying not to make an impression on the world.
‘I like cats, too,’ he said.
‘People are mostly cat people or dog people,’ she said. ‘It’s quite rare to be both.’ She drifted across the room and perched on the edge of the chair opposite, but only, said her demeanour, so that she could stroke Barney. Barney at once flopped on to his side and presented his belly – the gesture of a nice dog who knew his place in the hierarchy.
‘I like all animals,’ Slider said. ‘My father was a farmer.’ Two revelations in five minutes – what was wrong with him? He was too comfortable here. It was dangerous.
‘I’d have liked to be a farmer,’ Frieda said. ‘But there’s no money in it, and it’s terribly hard work. A lot of the girls want to be vets, but they’re just sentimental about animals. They don’t understand what it really means.’
‘What do you want to do, now you’re not going to be a farmer?’
She looked at him carefully, to see if he was teasing her, and then said, ‘I’m going to be a doctor.’ She said it with unemphatic firmness, as though there were no doubt about it, so no need to be dogmatic.
‘Good for you,’ he said.
‘Why “good for me”?’ Her voice was light and sharp. She didn’t want to be patronized.
‘The country needs doctors,’ he said. ‘Is your father one?’
‘No, Daddy’s in the wine trade. He used to deal futures on Liv-ex, but now he’s a buyer for a big wholesaler. It’s more fun because he gets to go on trips all the time.’ She sat up, abandoning the dog’s belly, and said, ‘But you didn’t come here to talk about careers. You don’t need to put me at ease with small talk, you know. I’m perfectly all right.’
‘I can see that,’ Slider said. Her light, clipped voice said she was at ease, but her eyes said differently.
‘You want to talk to me about Zellah.’
‘Of course. I want to know what she was like.’
‘In what way?’ It was a wary question.
‘I believe she was very bright,’ Slider said, for somewhere to start. ‘Intelligent?’