The Long Call (Two Rivers #1) - Ann Cleeves Page 0,12
him?’ Jen said.
‘We were getting on fine without him. I suppose it changed the dynamics. I’m sad he’s dead of course. But honestly? I won’t be sorry to go back to the way it was before he turned up.’
Jen stared at the photograph again. For the remainder of the investigation this would be how she would remember the residents of Hope Street: Gaby, the arty one with the dark eyes and red lipstick, Caroline, the religious one with the big specs.
‘Does Simon have any family? We need to inform them.’
‘There’s a wife,’ Gaby said. ‘She threw him out. I think she lives in Bristol but I don’t have a name or address.’
‘Work?’
‘He spent last summer as a chef at the Kingsley House Hotel, here in Ilfracombe. When the season ended he lost his accommodation too of course. That’s the gig economy for you.’
Jen nodded.
‘Since then he’s done a bit of volunteering at the Woodyard – he works in the cafe there, Caz or her dad got him in – but he’s had no paid work.’
‘How does he pay his rent?’ Ross was less sympathetic to the troubles of seasonal workers. He thought they should get a proper job.
‘I don’t know,’ Gaby said, ‘but according to Caz, it landed up in her bank account every month. I hope she doesn’t struggle without it.’ A pause. ‘Her father’s loaded, though. I expect she’ll survive.’
‘Could we have a look at Mr Walden’s room? It’ll need to be sealed for a proper search, but we’d like a quick look now.’
Gaby nodded and got to her feet. They followed her to the first-floor landing, where she stopped. ‘Simon’s room is on the top floor at the back. I’ll leave you to it, if that’s okay.’
Jen thought Simon Walden had been given the smallest and darkest room, the one that nobody else had chosen. He was a lodger, a charity case and not a real friend. It was in the roof and faced up the hill looking over the yard and other houses, not to the sea. It was bare and impersonal. There was a single bed under the small dormer window. A white-painted wardrobe held a sparse number of clothes. No TV and no computer. A radio on the bedside table. No photos.
‘He’s someone who travelled light,’ Jen said. ‘It could be a monk’s room.’
Ross was standing beside her, his back against the closed door. ‘Or a prison cell.’
* * *
They found Gaby in the kitchen. An old-fashioned airing rack hung from the ceiling and she was taking towels and pillowcases from it and folding them on the table, smoothing the pillowcases so they wouldn’t need ironing. Jen recognized the technique. The woman stopped what she was doing when they came in. An opened bottle of wine and a half-full glass stood on the scrubbed pine table.
‘What time are you expecting Caroline back?’ Jen could have fancied a glass of wine herself. God knew when she’d get home to have one.
‘Not until nine. I think I explained: she’s a social worker for a mental health charity, attached to the church where her boyfriend’s a curate. This is one of her nights for an evening session. She’s passionate about it.’ A pause. ‘Her mother committed suicide. Maybe that’s why she’s so dedicated to the cause.’
‘And Mr Walden was one of her clients?’
‘Yeah,’ Gaby said. ‘Like I told you, one of her lost sheep.’
‘Isn’t it a bit unusual, inviting a client into your home?’ Jen thought social workers were trained to keep their distance. All the professionals she’d ever met had been detached to the point of not caring.
‘Well, I didn’t think it was a good idea.’ Gaby paused. ‘When I first met him, I thought he was odd, creepy. I wanted him out. Caz said if I knew more about him, I’d be more supportive.’
‘Did you find out any more about him?’
Gaby shook her head. ‘Caz said she couldn’t tell me any more because of confidentiality, so that didn’t help much.’ A pause. ‘In the end, it’s her house. I guess she can have whoever she wants to stay.’
‘We’ll need to come back tomorrow to speak to your friend.’ Jen looked at her watch. The briefing would start in half an hour and she didn’t want to miss that. ‘When would be a good time to catch you both before work?’
‘About eight thirty? Neither of us start early.’ She walked them to the front door. Jen thought she could be an actor as well as an