Cut You Dead (Dr. Samantha Willerby Mystery #4) - A J Waines Page 0,98

any–’

With that the call broke off. I rang back, but there was no reply.

Before I set off running again, I redialled Terry’s number, then cut the connection. Better to wait until I actually got to the final destination, as things might change again. In any case, Emily said the police were on their way, so we’d be safe. I could tell them then about my hair.

I was passing The Bugle when a call from a number I didn’t recognise came in.

‘Hello?’

‘It’s Doreen Pitlock, love. I need to check something about the fee for the interviews.’

Damn! I should never have given her my mobile number. I smothered a heavy sigh. ‘Go on.’

‘When I get paid it needs to be in cash. I can’t be doing with any of these online bank transfers or cheques, okay?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Anything to get rid of her.

‘And I’ve been thinking,’ she went on. ‘That lass you mentioned. Lorna thingummy. I was chatting to my neighbour and we remembered all about it.’

She had my full attention now. ‘Remembered all about what?’

‘That’s when the girl died, didn’t she? The model. Isabel Grace. Smashed her head in – falling down the stairs.’

Falling down the stairs. Snippets of conversations I’d had recently with Emily and Miranda pummelled my brain like a swarm of bees. Could it be the same girl?

Mrs Pitlock went on. ‘This girl, Isabel, was wearing high-heeled shoes that were too big for her. It was technically an accident, but a few people secretly blamed the person who gave her the shoes. That was her. Lorna Sullivan. She was backstage and made Isabel wear the wrong shoes.’

The fashion show in 2010.

‘So you knew Lorna?’

‘Not really, but my neighbour remembered her name from the papers. This Lorna girl had caused trouble before, accusing an innocent bloke in a road accident.’ She hesitated. ‘It was Isabel Grace we knew. The one who fell on the stairs, poor love.’

I asked the big question that was bursting to trip off my tongue. ‘Did Chris know Isabel?’

‘Er… he might have done. Local girl. But he never tells me anything, so I can’t be sure.’

My thoughts were bubbling away. What if Chris did know Isabel? What if he was fond of her? If people had blamed Lorna for Isabel’s death, maybe he had too. It would give him a motive for killing Lorna.

‘Did you know Lorna was killed soon after?’

‘Ooh, was she? No, I didn’t know that.’

My stomach curdled as I absently lowered the phone from my ear. I was replaying other voices in my head. Voices talking about a girl who’d fallen down stone stairs. Miranda telling me the girl’s shoes were too high. Emily telling me the shoes were too big. A broken neck. Isabel Grace. It had to be the same girl.

I turned into Saltern Road and glanced up at the house numbers, my mind diving all over the place. As well as having a motive for Charlotte’s death and a connection to Hazel Hart, Chris Pitlock could have known Lorna too, through Isabel. He could indeed be the boyfriend Lorna had told me about all those years ago. Surely Terry had put a call through to Fenway by now. There was no point in me trying Fenway again, he probably wouldn’t even answer my call, given I was officially off the case.

I thought again about the likelihood of Chris being able to get from Stockwell to Primrose Hill to smother his fiancée within the time frame established by the post-mortem. It was unlikely, but not impossible. There was also the army knife Chris admitted to carrying which had an integrated pair of tiny scissors. Is that what he’d used to snip off my hair? Tricky to do without me being aware of it – but again, not impossible.

I quickened my step. There was no point in speculating right this minute. The facts were what Fenway needed and hopefully he’d have them by now.

I turned my attention to Emily. What was so urgent about Stephen McVey?

74

I reached the house with number twenty-seven on the gate. There was a sticker on the front door:

Take the outside steps to the roof garden. Emily

Mrs Pitlock was still on the line, chuntering on about what she was going to do with the fee from the ‘interview’.

‘… and some tanning sessions, seeing as I’m not moving abroad. And one of those designer tote bags would be…’

I tried to end the call, but she didn’t hear me. She hadn’t finished. I didn’t want to cut her

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