‘In Cannes? You mean, like Cannes in France?’ Spencer looked and sounded bemused.
‘The only one I know of,’ Stacey said.
‘But how do you know that? How did you find that out?’
Stacey gave Carol an enquiring glance. ‘Go ahead,’ Carol said.
‘One of the things we’ve done at MIT is build informal relationships with our counterparts abroad,’ Stacey said. ‘I’ve got contacts in seventeen European jurisdictions who will run prints for me. It’s got no evidential value, because it’s unofficial, but sometimes it’s useful for showing us where to look. Her prints and her DNA were a no-show on our database, so I tried my contacts. She turned up in France. Four years ago, though, so not the most current info.’ Stacey pinned Spencer with a look and gave a grim smile. ‘Not bad for a Chink.’
Spencer’s lips thinned to a tight line and he breathed heavily through his nose. Carol’s smile was almost as thin. ‘We do have more,’ she said.
‘Leanne’s address at the time was a student hall of residence here in Bradfield. That gave me a lot of options for back-door searching,’ Stacey said.
‘That’s another thing we do a lot of round here,’ Sam said. ‘Back-door searching. We like to be a bit more subtle than kicking people’s front doors in.’
‘Ideally, we prefer them not to even notice we’ve been in,’ Stacey said drily. ‘Bottom line is, Leanne is from Manchester. She has an undergraduate degree in French and Spanish from Bradfield University. She is currently studying for a PhD on “Inventions of self in the works of Miguel Cervantes”. Whatever that means. And, as it appears, funding her studies by selling sex on the streets of Bradfield.’
‘Some people will do anything to avoid taking out a student loan,’ Kevin said sourly.
‘We can’t all be successful capitalists,’ Stacey said. ‘I’ve got an address for her parents in Manchester. And an address for her here in Bradfield.’
Paula’s mobile vibrated and she checked it out, only half-listening to what was going on around her.
‘Excellent,’ Carol said. ‘Sam, Kevin – once DI Spencer has finished with you, get yourself over to her place and see if she’s got flatmates. Let’s start building up a picture of her life.’ She turned back to Spencer. ‘I’d like you to arrange a Family Liaison Officer for her parents, and take personal charge of breaking the news. They deserve a ranking officer, they’ve lost a daughter. Paula, take yourself off to the university, find whoever was supervising her and talk to them. We need to know where she intersected with her killer, and that means filling in the blanks. Leanne Considine encountered a man who brutalised her and killed her. We need to find him before he finds another victim. And one more thing – so far, we’ve stopped this becoming a media circus. Let’s get it done and dusted before we’ve got the Penny Burgesses of this world crawling all over us.’
22
Kevin thought it was ironic that the student house where Leanne Considine had lived was a scummy shit-tip compared to the home Nicky Reid had shared with Suze Black. In his world, there was something topsy-turvy about a pair of hookers living in a place that was clean and tidy while four graduate students shared what could only be described as squalor. The kitchen worktops were cluttered with dirty mugs and glasses, takeaway food containers and empty wine bottles. Back in the mists of history, someone had thought it was a good idea to put carpet tiles on the floor. Now they were stained and shiny with use. The thought of coming down barefoot in the morning to make a cup of coffee made Kevin shudder inside.
Only Siobhan Carey had been at home when they’d arrived. Kevin had broken the news of Leanne’s death and confirmed the identification with the photo Grisha had supplied them with. He’d expected her to fall apart. Young women mostly did, in his experience. But in spite of clearly being shocked and saddened, Siobhan had stayed calm. No hysteria, no floods of tears, no throwing things at the walls. Instead, she’d texted her housemates, who had made it back inside a quarter of an hour. ‘We were lucky to get this house,’ Siobhan had said while she rinsed mugs and made tea for the detectives. ‘It’s only a ten-minute bike ride from the university library. That’s where we all mostly work. It saves on the heating bills in the winter.’
It was the perfect lead-in. Behind her back, Kevin gave Sam the nod. This was one for him. Siobhan had the air of a young woman who was trying a little too hard. There was something about the artful arrangement of her Primark layers, the care she’d taken with her hair and her make-up, that said she understood she wasn’t going to be the first pick on anybody’s list. Her nose was a little too long, her eyes a little too narrow, her body a little too plump. She’d be grateful for some one-onone attention from a good-looking bloke like Sam. And Sam knew just how to charm the birds out of the trees. Definitely time for Kevin to take a back seat.
‘It seems to get tougher every year, being a student,’ Sam said, his voice like hot chocolate on a cold day. ‘They hike up your fees, they raise your rents, they cane you for having an overdraft … ’
‘Tell me about it,’ Siobhan said.
‘I don’t know how you all manage, especially doing the postgraduate stuff.’ Sam sounded like his heart was bleeding for her.
Siobhan turned to face him, leaning against the counter while the kettle boiled. Her thin cardigan had slipped off one shoulder, revealing a not particularly expert tattoo of a bluebird. ‘I work four nights a week stacking supermarket shelves,’ she said. ‘Friday afternoon, I deliver the local free paper. And every month I end up having to ask my dad for an extra fifty quid to cover the rent.’
‘You’re lucky to have a dad who can afford an extra fifty quid a month. A lot of people can’t find that much to spare these days,’ Sam said.
‘He’s great, my dad. One day I hope I can pay him back.’
When he’s old and sick and needs someone to feed him and change him, Kevin thought. That’s when he’ll be looking for payback. Bet you’re not so keen then, Siobhan. But he said nothing, leaving it to Sam.
‘What about Leanne?’ Sam said. ‘What did she do to make ends meet?’
Siobhan turned away abruptly, saved from answering by the boiling of the kettle. ‘How do you have your tea?’ she said brightly.
‘We both have milk, no sugar,’ Sam said, not sure about Kevin but not really caring. What he wanted was to keep the flow of conversation going, especially since Siobhan clearly didn’t. ‘So – Leanne. Did she have a part-time job too? Or did her family subsidise her?’
Siobhan made a big number out of draining the teabags and pouring the milk. She put the mugs down in front of the two detectives with a little flourish. ‘There you are, guys. Freshly brewed Yorkshire tea. You can’t beat it.’ Her smile was considerably weaker than the tea.
‘How long had you known Leanne?’ Sam said, moving away from what had turned out to be a difficult question. He’d circle back to it, but for now, let her think she’d won.
‘Just over a year and a half. We’re both attached to the Modern Languages department. She was Spanish, I’m Italian. With her doing her undergraduate degree here in Bradfield, she’d already snagged this house and she was looking for people to share. She wanted other postgrads, not undergrads.’ Siobhan sipped from her mug and looked at Sam over the rim. ‘Undergrads just want to drink and party. Postgrads are more serious. We’re spending all this money because we’re really serious about what we’re doing. My first term at Exeter, one of the Hooray Henrys in my hall of residence actually threw up over my laptop. Then he called me a stupid working-class tart when I complained. Frankly, you want to be as far away from wankers like that as possible.’