‘My parents were very ordinary people, you know,’ Serena began, her eyes fixed on something in the middle distance, making him wonder if she was reliving some memory of them. ‘She played golf every other day, went to the local art class every week. The sort of thing that loads of Kilmacolm ladies do. None of her friends ever said anything bad about her, as far as I know.’ She tailed off.
‘And you father?’ Lorimer’s interjection was dropped quietly into the ensuing silence, encouraging her to continue.
‘Just the same, I suppose. He worked at the office, took business trips, played golf. All the same stuff as everyone else’s father did around here. Well, I mean, up there.’ She made a face as she realised her mistake. ‘I suppose I’m still not used to being away from home.’
‘You moved here very recently then?’
‘Yes. I got the keys the week before…’ She tailed off again and this time Lorimer did not press her.
It struck him as a trifle odd, though. Serena Jackson was an independent young woman in her mid-twenties and yet had only just left the parental home. Perhaps that explained why everything here looked so new and shiny; things were only just out of their boxes and with the advent of her parents’ deaths she would hardly have had the energy to personalise her own space. Taking a quick glance around confirmed his thoughts; there was not even a single photograph on display — nothing to remind her of her mum and dad, only such memories as she had locked up in her head.
Something told Lorimer that he was not going to get anything else useful from the girl. She seemed to have faded into another silence that left him feeling like an outsider. And yet he couldn’t let himself leave it like that.
‘Are you intending to return to work?’ he asked.
The rise of one shoulder signalled what? Indifference? Uncertainty?
‘You don’t mind living here on your own?’
The eyes Serena turned upon him were at once large and vacant as if something had taken away her innermost spirit and Lorimer wondered if she were even taking in these simple questions.
‘Do you miss them?’ he asked softly, leaning forward so there could be no chance of her missing his words.
For a moment she didn’t move, then he saw the slight nod of her head and the way she bit her lip as if to stop herself from weeping.
‘Would you excuse me?’ she asked and rose suddenly, crossing the room in a couple of strides and disappearing into the hall. He heard the hollow sound of a door closing and guessed she had gone to the bathroom rather than show any sign of grief in front of a stranger.
Lorimer looked around the room, trying to see anything that would give him more of a clue about this young woman and the sort of life she was now living, but there seemed to be no personal things at all, not even a magazine in the metal rack beside the coffee table. But he did recognise something there. The turquoise cover of a square-shaped folder caught his attention. He bent down and picked it up, reading the familiar words on the front cover: Information for Bereaved Families and Friends Following Murder or Culpable Homicide. So, she had already been given this by Family Liaison. Why, then, was she insisting that it was an accident? A refusal to acknowledge something more dreadful, he supposed. He’d come across denial like that before, he thought, flicking open the folder until he came to the section headed Important Contacts. There, against the box for the name of the SIO was the name Detective Chief Inspector Colin Ray. But it had been scored out with a single line and beneath it a different hand had written Mr William Lorimer. There was no change in the postal address or telephone number of the HQ at Greenock, though. Lorimer frowned for a moment. He was not being dignified by any title other than plain Mister. Then he shrugged. Maybe there simply wasn’t enough space under the original name.
Hearing the sound of a toilet being flushed, Lorimer put the folder back where he had found it and stood up ready to take his leave.
Serena Jackson didn’t seem surprised to see him standing waiting for her.
‘Thanks for seeing me this morning. And for the coffee,’ he added.
She gave a sight nod and headed for the front door at the far end of the hall, opening it wide as if to ensure that he really was leaving. Then, before he could say goodbye, she caught his sleeve, making him turn to face her.
‘Do you like being a policeman?’ she asked, her tawny eyes wide, like that of a curious child.
‘Not always,’ he replied. ‘But it’s a good job most of the time.’ Then, as she let go of his coat sleeve, he smiled at her. ‘Take care,’ he told her, nodding as she stepped back into the sanctuary of her new home. Then the door closed and he heard again that rattle of metal against wood as she secured the safety chain.
Once out in the open air, Lorimer drew a deep breath. That had been less than pleasant, but then what had he expected? Hopefully his visit to the older brother would produce a bit more in the way of information. All that he had found here was that the Jacksons’ daughter was a strange creature, one that, for all his experience, he simply couldn’t fathom. For a moment he felt a certain pity for the girl; she seemed incomplete despite her undeniable beauty. But wasn’t there something odd about such perfection? Then Lorimer caught himself wondering what she would look like if she had given him a smile. And for a moment he wished that she had.
‘I wish you’d told me you wanted to see Serena, Superintendent. I’d have made the effort to be there with her,’ Daniel Jackson told him.
They were sitting in an airy room overlooking one of the city’s dear green places in a quiet corner of the West End. It was only a mile or so from the comprehensive school where Maggie taught but it might have been in a completely different world. That was one thing his friend Solly Brightman was fond of telling him: how Glasgow was full of contrasts, those who had and those who had not rubbing shoulders with apparent ease.
Daniel Jackson’s home was one of the most gracious houses that Lorimer had ever visited, though he had been inside all sorts of Glasgow properties during his career. On either side of the bay windows were twin pillars made of tawny marble, half hidden by thin, gauzy draperies drawn beside them. The high ceilings still had all of their original cornicing, a feature that someone had picked out in a pale shade of gold in the elegant sitting room. Some nineteenth-century merchant with pots of money at his disposal, Lorimer thought as he took in the pleasing proportions of this room. And now another wealthy young man had taken over the care of the house, lavishing his own attention upon it. It was the sort of period home that would have been ruined by anyone trying to impose a modern style upon it and the policeman’s artistic sensibilities were gratified by seeing that so many of the furnishings were in keeping with the age of the house. No doubt Daniel Jackson would have the same up-to-date quality of kitchen as his sister had in her new-build flat by the river, but here, in this sitting room, there was every sign that the owner was in sympathy with his surroundings. Though right at this moment he seemed distinctly out if sympathy with the tall policeman sitting opposite.
‘It’s only usual to have a family member present when interviewing a minor,’ Lorimer told him, meeting the young man’s gaze. Daniel Jackson gave a sigh and turned away as if to gather his thoughts. Then he looked back at Lorimer, his brown eyes soft with a sadness that made the policeman immediately warm to the man.
‘I’m a bit protective of my little sister, Superintendent. She’s not like other young women you may have met. Don’t get me wrong,’ he waved his hand as though to banish any wrongheaded ideas, ‘she’s perfectly capable of looking after herself and all that. It’s just.. ’ He tailed off, as though seeking the correct words. ‘Serena’s always needed a bit more care than me. She had a hard time at school till they found she was dyslexic. And by that time she’d missed such a lot. Anyway, she’s been really badly affected by all of this and one can only admire her for staying put in her own place.’