‘You’ve got a daughter?’ That surprised him. There was nothing to show there was a child in the house. No toys or picture books. No mess. Then he saw a silver-framed photo on the mantelshelf. A blond-haired little girl in a pink sweater, with silver rings in her ears and a silver chain round her neck.
‘Kirsty.’ Kim explained. ‘ She’s at playgroup.’
Hunter thought perhaps the child explained the way she lived. The Child Support Agency had got its claws into a wealthy father. He wondered briefly what bits and pieces of work Kim Houghton had had a go at, but decided it was probably best not to dwell on it. He needed to concentrate.
Kim set her coffee mug on the glass-topped table. ‘ I suppose you’re here about Kathleen. Mrs Howe.’
‘You knew her?’
She shrugged. ‘ Saw her about. We never spoke. She thought she was too good for me.’
‘What’s the story, then?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Tell me about the Howes. What do people say about them?’
‘That they keep themselves to themselves. That’s what the charitable ones say.’
‘And the others?’
‘That they’re stuck-up gits.’
‘And you?’ He leant forward confidentially. ‘ What do you think?’
‘They’re not normal, are they?’ The answer was flip. She didn’t really care one way or the other. This was a bit of drama, a bit of fun. There’d been reporters knocking on the door and now this detective. Very tasty. She’d always kept her distance from the law but if anyone could make her change the practice of a lifetime…
‘In what way not normal?’ His tone was more serious and she struggled to explain.
‘They don’t drive, don’t drink, don’t have a telly. They never go out except to walk. That’s not normal, is it?’ For the first, time she was on the defensive.
‘Are they religious?’
She looked blank.
‘Do they belong to one of those sects? Jehovah’s Witness or something?’ It was the only explanation he could come up with for the aberrant lifestyle.
‘I don’t think so.’ She rushed a little giggle. ‘ They haven’t tried to convert me.’
‘How long have they lived on the Headland?’
‘Just over five years. They moved in about the same time as Ray and me.’
‘Any family connections on the Headland?’
She shook her head.
‘So why move here?’
‘Same reason as me and Ray I expect. Because the houses were dirt cheap. Ray’s a builder and he knew he could do the place up. The Howes speak posh but I don’t think there’s much money there. Bernard works on the computers at the Ministry but it’s all agency staff now and they pay peanuts.’
‘How do you know?’
She shrugged again. ‘People talk. You know how it is.’
‘I wonder what they say about you?’
She answered immediately, but without rancour. ‘They say I’m a dirty slut because I threw out Ray and I’m bringing up the bairn on my own. And because I like a night out with my friends once in a while. A few drinks and a laugh and a bit of a dance down Whitley on a Friday night.’
‘How do you manage that with a kid to look after? Does your mam live close by?’
‘Na, and she wouldn’t be keen if she did. She still likes a night out herself. She thinks she’s too young to be a gran.’
‘So who minds the bairn?’
‘Claire. She’ll always sit if she’s free. Glad to get out of that house, I expect.’
‘Claire?’
She looked at him as if he was stupid. ‘Claire Irvine. Kath Howe’s sister. They took her in when her parents died. She works as a nanny up at the Coastguard House, but they don’t need her much in the evenings. Like I say, I think she’s glad to get out – can you imagine being shut up with those weirdos and no telly? But she owes me a favour anyway. It was me that got her the job.’
‘How was that?’ Hunter thought this was probably irrelevant but the boss had ordered gossip and he was following instructions. Besides, it was more pleasant here than in some of the houses he’d visited, with their smells of old age, talcum powder and cat pee. He thought again he’d be happy to stay here all day.
‘I take Kirsty to the playgroup in. Heppleburn. There’s no nursery round here. Mrs Coulthard from the Coastguard House sends her oldest boy there too. Sometimes she gives me a lift home. She was talking about getting a nanny and I mentioned that Claire had done the course and was looking for a job.’
‘Very convenient.’
‘Yeah, though you wouldn’t think she’d need a nanny, would you? It’s not as if she works. Some people have got more money than sense.’ There was a silence. She twisted a bangle on her wrist. ‘Is it true what they’re saying?’
‘Depends what they’re saying.’
‘That Kath Howe was murdered. It wasn’t an accident.’
‘She was stabbed.’ Hunter said. He drained the last of his coffee noisily. He wouldn’t have minded another cup, wouldn’t have minded anyway another glimpse of her bum as she bent over the sink to fill the kettle.
‘Jesus!’ She seemed honestly shocked. ‘I thought it was just talk.’ There was a pause. ‘Was she mucked about first? You know what I mean.’
‘There was no indication of sexual assault.’
‘Oh.’
‘When did you last see her?’ Hunter asked. She was still so dazed that he had to repeat the question.
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Did you see her on Saturday?’
‘Saturday? No, I don’t think so.’
‘Where were you that day?’
‘Here for most of the time.’
‘Didn’t you go out at all?’
‘Not in the morning. Unless you call standing on the doorstep going out. I’d been down Whitley on Friday night and a friend stayed over. I went out to wave him off. I didn’t see anyone then. Except the bitch across the road who had her nose pressed to the bedroom window.’
‘I’ll need the name and address of your friend.’
There was a moment of uncertainty then she said, with an attempt at the old flippancy, ‘You’ll be lucky.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean we weren’t on those sort of terms.’
‘You only met him that night?’
‘Na, I’d bumped into him a couple of times. He’d been back here once before.’
‘You must have a name for him then.’
‘He called himself Paul.’
‘You don’t think that was his real name?’
She shrugged. ‘Could have been. But he’s married, and he wasn’t giving much away.’
‘And where did “Paul” live?’ Hunter recognized no contradiction in his previous fantasies about Kim Houghton and the disapproval of her behaviour which expressed itself in sarcasm.
She seemed not to notice. ‘Newcastle.’
‘You can’t be more specific?’
She shook her head.
‘What about a phone number?’
It wasn’t that sort of thing. Just a bit of fun. At least it was supposed to be.
‘What do you mean?’
She had been smoking a cigarette and stabbed it out fiercely in a glass ashtray.
‘Went all weepy on me, didn’t he? About how his wife didn’t understand him. About how screwed up she is. Just what I needed. Not.’
‘How did you get here on Friday night? Taxi or his car?’
‘His car.’
‘Which was?’
‘A red Mazda. Very fancy. Very fast.’
‘Number plate?’
‘New. N reg. That’s all I noticed.’
‘And it was parked in the street all night?’
‘That’s right.’
Hunter sat back in his chair and looked at her. ‘Didn’t it bother you? Folks knowing you had a bloke to stay. Going out in the morning to see him off?’
He imagined her standing there in her dressing gown. With nothing on underneath.
‘Stuff them,’ she said. She picked up the packet of cigarettes from the table, knocked one out, lit it. Her hands shook slightly but her voice was steady. ‘ Stuff them. They could do with some excitement in their tired lives.’