Cut You Dead (Dr. Samantha Willerby Mystery #4) - A J Waines Page 0,35
in my bedroom, and hitched myself into the same position to try it for myself. Holding up my phone, I put my other hand beside me. I was sitting kind of side-saddle, my feet dangling off the floor.
I closed my eyes. Even centimetres from the carpet, I felt myself wobble at the thought of being nineteen floors up and vulnerable to the winter elements. What was Hazel thinking? Perhaps the police were right.
I clambered off, my heart racing.
Nevertheless, Hazel had done this time and time again. She’d captured at least a hundred such occasions on her phone. The toxicology report I’d glimpsed that morning stated there were no traces of drugs and only small amounts of alcohol in her system. That made it even less likely that she’d misjudged the situation and had fallen of her own accord.
I was torn.
Had Hazel told anyone of her intention to take a selfie from the balcony? I immediately chased that thought away. Surely, anyone who knew Hazel must have known it was likely. Had someone therefore planned for ‘an accident’, in some way? What about Ivan, the guy interested in her – had the police spoken to him?
I dabbed at the crumbs of dry crispbread on my plate with my finger and sighed. All I knew for certain was that Hazel’s hair was hacked off without her consent. I reflected on Tamsin’s exact words. Two days after New Year.
My stomach churned. Exactly a week before her death.
Just like Lorna.
27
Hazel
Five days earlier
That numpty Tamsin is getting on my nerves. She’s been fussing and faffing all morning. Have we got enough glasses? Have we got the right playlist ready? Should she put out another bowl of crisps? Chill your butt, woman! It’s a party – we’re meant to be having fun.
She keeps asking how things are going with Ivan all the time too – it’s driving me nuts. I’m sick of telling her he’s wasting his time. I think she’s jealous that I’ve got an admirer. No, not jealous – envious. She’s been in step with me ever since I moved in; buying the same clothes, going on the same diets, getting the same stuff for her flat. It was flattering to start with, but now it’s doing my friggin’ head in. I’m going to tell her to get her own poxy life if she doesn’t pack it in.
‘Machi’s here!’ Tamsin shouts from the corridor. She’s waiting for people by the lift, it’s embarrassing.
Machi comes in with a gang from Dentworths behind her.
‘Help yourselves, guys. You know the ropes.’ I indicate the table stacked with glasses, most already filled with wine. ‘You can’t all be here!’ I call over to my mates from work, my eyes wide. ‘Who’s holding the fort?’
‘No idea,’ Carol says, dipping her hand into a bowl of cheese puffs. ‘I’m on legitimate annual leave.’
‘So am I,’ one of the blokes from reception butts in, a bottle of lager already in his hand.
Machi sits on the edge of the sofa.
‘You okay, hun?’ I ask her.
‘Sure.’ Her bottom lip quivers a fraction.
‘Is your boyfriend coming?’ She wrinkles her nose. ‘You two fallen out again?’ I slip my arm around her. Her hair smells of candyfloss.
‘Sort of. I hope he doesn’t turn up, if I’m honest. I can’t bear another round of the blame game.’
‘Listen, before it gets noisy, I want to talk to you about my trip to Japan in the spring. I’ve only got ten days over there and I want to know if I should spend more time in Kyoto or Nara.’
Her face lights up. She’s keen to talk about home, although it seems that any subject other than her on-off boyfriend will do. She rattles through a list of bamboo forests, shrines and temples, raked Zen gardens and the best places for tea ceremonies – all with strange Japanese names – none of which I’ll remember. ‘I’ll send you the links,’ she says.
Ten more people arrive at once, so I turn up the music. Let’s get this party rockin’!
28
Sam
The Present
I spent the next morning chasing from one area of London to another, speaking to hairdressers.
I started with the salon Lorna had used before she died in 2010; the one Julia had mentioned. On the way, I got back to Tamsin, thanking her for the photos and to ask who had restyled Hazel’s hair shortly before her death. Given how close the pair were, I was sure she’d know. She responded straight away; a place called Clippers in Kings Cross.