‘It would need more work if we had to take this to court,’ the RO said,‘but we’re confident that the basic sequence is right.’
He paused, then nodded to the technician who pressed more buttons. The sequence began again from the beginning, but this time there was a second outline figure in the room, and as it moved towards Rudd and then away again, they saw how the figure blocked and interfered with the spray of red blood tracks. The reason for the irregular pattern on the floor now became clear. ‘There was someone else in that room,’ the RO said. ‘It just doesn’t work without them.’
There was total silence, and then Brock opened his file and drew out the copy of the birthday party photograph they’d found pinned on the studio wall. He stared at it for a long moment, then said, as if musing to himself, ‘The unmatched DNA on the shoes we found in the bin outside… Did you try to match it with Tracey’s?’
‘Tracey?’ They stared at him in surprise, and then Kathy realised what he meant, and something occurred to her, something she’d been trying to recall.
‘The dolls’ house,’ she said, and then, her mind racing, ‘I should have checked the phone calls.’ Finally she asked, ‘Have you got anything on the chisel, apart from its width?’
The RO checked his papers.‘Yes, it seems it’s an unusual type, hollow ground on the underside of the blade. Japanese probably.’
32
Kathy got up early the next morning, hours before sunrise, and drove into Shoreditch to join the others. There she exchanged her car in the police station compound for an unmarked observation van and headed west. She found a parking spot in the silent suburban street as dawn broke, and slipped into the back of the van to wait. After a while the smells of a suburb stirring awake on a cold Sunday morning began to percolate into her hiding place-coffee, frying bacon, the exhaust of a car. Later she watched an old orange Volvo turn out of the side road and she got behind the wheel to follow it and a trail of other cars heading for church.
When she finally arrived at the Nolans’ house they were still reading the Sunday papers over the remains of their breakfast. They seemed embarrassed to be caught out in this state, and Bev started clearing dishes.
‘I’d like to speak to you both together, if that’s all right,’ Kathy said, and led the way to the sitting room overlooking the back garden, the Nolans following reluctantly. Through the French windows they could see a thrush with a snail in its beak, trying to crack its shell on the brick path.
‘It’s about Gabe, of course?’Bev said, still flustered.‘We weren’t sure whether to ring you again. What a shocking thing.’
‘Have you caught someone?’ Len asked, still not inviting Kathy to sit.
‘I think we’re getting close.’
‘Really? Well, thank goodness. A maniac, I suppose? A stalker?’ Len put an arm around his wife’s shoulder as if to protect her from this, but she pulled away, glancing uneasily out at the garden. ‘Look,’ Len continued, ‘I don’t
mean to be rude, Kathy, but this isn’t a very convenient moment for us. You really should have phoned. Could we do this another time?’
‘Sorry,’ Kathy said.‘Do you mind if we sit down?’
‘Of course. Where are our manners? I’m forgetting myself,’ Bev said. Her voice sounded strained. ‘I think we could all do with a nice cup of coffee, don’t you?’
As she bustled out, Len said,‘She’s still in shock, Kathy. We both are. Let’s hope you do clear this up soon. But we really didn’t expect to see you on a Sunday morning.’
‘I understand, Len,’ Kathy said getting up and moving to the door.
‘No, don’t worry…’ Len called after her, but Kathy was already out of the room. She found Bev in the kitchen, pressing the buttons on a phone. She stopped and looked up guiltily when she saw Kathy, who came to her side and gently lifted the phone to see the number on the display.
‘Yes, they’re probably back from church now. Come on, Bev, it’s time to talk.’ Bev seemed to have shrunk a little as Kathy led her back into the sitting room.
‘That’s the Lovells’ house over there, isn’t it?’ Kathy nodded at the back of another house directly behind their garden, identical to the Nolans’ and all the others surrounding the block.‘They must be good neighbours. You phoned them the last time I came here. It was the first thing you did as soon as Enid across the street rang you on your mobile to tell you I was waiting for you. And then you rang them again as soon as I left.’
‘You’ve been tapping our phones?’ Len said, aghast.
‘I checked last night, after I remembered something.’
‘What was that?’
‘When we first met you told me you’d made Tracey a dolls’ house and a farmyard. I saw the farm upstairs in her old room, but where’s the dolls’ house?’
They looked stunned.‘Did we tell you that?’ Len said. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘So where is it?’
Len’s face flushed red. ‘You tap our phones and come here on a Sunday morning to ask us about dolls’ houses? What’s got into you people?’
‘I see you’ve put a gate in your back fence since I was here last, so you don’t even have to go out onto the street to visit the Lovells. That’s handy. Oh…’
They followed her gaze, staring through the window at a small hand reaching over the top of the gate and fumbling with the latch. Bev took a sharp breath as if she were about to cry out. The gate swung open and a small girl dressed in Sunday best, with a smart tan coat and polished shoes, stepped into the Nolans’ garden. She had dark brown hair, cut short, but Kathy recognised the features straight away. She’d been staring at them across her desk for the past three weeks. She felt a sudden sense of lightness, as if a dull weight had been lifted from her heart.
‘How long have you known?’ Len said.
‘Not long.’
They watched the small figure come down the path between the vegetable and flower gardens, under the clothes line, to the kitchen door, then heard the voice, ‘Grandma! Grandpa!’
Len roused himself.‘In here, cherub.’
Kathy looked at him, but there was no sign of irony. They seemed unaware of the reference. In fact, they both looked grey and defeated, barely aware of anything, and the little girl sensed it as soon as she came into the room.
‘Are you all right, Grandma?’ she said.‘Who’s this?’
‘Yes, dear. This is… a friend of ours.’
‘Oh.’ The little girl looked frankly at Kathy. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Kathy. What’s yours?’
‘Tra…Lucy,’she corrected herself.‘Lucy Lovell. I live at thirty-six Nightingale Crescent with my great-aunt and uncle.’
‘Do you like that?’
‘Oh yes. When I’m seven I’m going to join the junior school orchestra.’
‘I see. And where do you keep the dolls’ house that your grandpa made for you?’
‘In my other bedroom, of course. Grandpa’s going to build an extension for it, aren’t you, Grandpa, for my Christmas?’
‘Yes, cherub,’ Len said faintly.
‘If you’re busy with Kathy, can I watch cartoons on TV?’
‘Of course.’
They watched her leave, and Kathy said, ‘She seems happy.’
‘Yes,’ Bev said, an edge of resistance entering her voice. ‘She’s changed, even in three weeks. She’s so much happier.’
‘Took to it like a duck to water,’ Len said.
‘What have you told the school?’
‘That the Lovells have taken in the daughter of their nephew, whose marriage has broken down. It’s a common story, our generation having to step in to pick up the pieces. The school sees it all the time, didn’t doubt us for a minute. We provided some paperwork.’