I turned and frowned up at the house. Who lives here?
Dr McDonald checked her list. Steven Wallace?
Never heard of him.
She rang the bell again, and the crows settled in a semicircle at the foot of the steps. Click. Click. Click.
Who the hell was Steven Wallace?
She shrugged. Maybe he s not in?
And that s when the door opened. A slightly chubby man beamed out at us: bright-blue suit, bright-yellow shirt, blond hair jelled into spikes, a little ginger goatee, and tiny rect-angular glasses. Hey, hey, hey, what s all this then? Big cheesy voice, big cheesy grin.
Dr McDonald checked her list again. Mr Wallace?
He winked. But you can call me Sensational Steve!
Oh Christ Steven Wallace, host of Sensational Steve s Breakfast Drive-Time Bonanza. He was even more of a tosser in real life. Mugging it up for the cameras.
I flashed my warrant card. Can we come in, please, sir?
Course you can, course you can. Walk this way! Then he turned and hobbled off down the hall, dragging one leg behind him, one shoulder up as if he had a hunch.
Dr McDonald pursed her lips. Right
I put a hand on the small of her back and encouraged her inside, then stepped in after her and slammed the door. and that s why I think it s so important to do as much for charity as I possibly can. I mean, you ve got to use your celebrity as a force for good, am I right or am I right?
The conservatory glowed like a bonfire as the sun set. It was big enough for a baby grand piano, a leather sofa with matching armchairs, coffee table, a couple of large pot plants, and Sensational Steve s ego. He took up the entire couch on his own, arms draped along the back.
Prick.
Dr McDonald sat quietly in the other seat, batting her eyelashes at him, knees together, leaning forwards, drinking in his shite like it was nectar.
I took a sip of the weak green tea he d served up from a china pot with his own face on it. An over-sized oil painting hung on the wall behind him Steven Wallace posing like some eighteenth-century gentleman in front of a log fire and a handful of teddy bears wearing SENSATIONAL STEVE! T-shirts sat next to him on the couch. The piano was covered with framed photos of him grinning away with various musicians and actors. Look at me! Look how famous I am!
And you didn t see anything?
What? He blinked a couple of times. Oh, yes, when the girls went missing. Well no. Not a thing. Sorry: wish I had. He shuffled forwards in his seat, looked left, right, then dropped his voice to a whisper. Seriously, how wonderful would that be? Think of the publicity: radio personality helps police catch serial killer. Don t get me wrong, I m not complaining I ve done four interviews this week, two with the BBC and one with Sky News. But actually being a witness I d be on every front page in the country.
He sat back again, picked up his tea and smiled into the cup.
Next thing you know: I m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here! I have the bone structure for TV, don t you think?
I flipped open my notebook. Tell me, Mr Wallace, where were you last night?
Oh, some dreary fund-raiser for Cancer Research, or something. I was your host with the most, making the toasts. You should have seen it, we did a prank call live on stage not everyone has the chutzpah for that. You have to time it to perfection, pick the perfect victim, or it s a disaster.
What about the afternoon: quarter past three?
A pause. A frown. And then he flashed his veneers at me. Right, well, I was at home getting ready for the gig. I like to meditate: helps me shine. He stood and walked to the wall of glass, looking out over his back garden towards the ivy-covered wall at the bottom. Cameron Park lurked on the other side, shadows growing darker as the sun disappeared. Three of the SOC tents were visible through the rampant bushes and jagged trees glowing blue in the twilight. I have to admit: it s not easy with that going on all day and night. I have to be up at four to get to the studio and rehearse the Breakfast Drive-Time Bonanza. A sniff.
Spotlights shining everywhere, tents, generators, it s like a bloody circus out there.
Well, on behalf of Oldcastle Police let me formally apologize that our investigation into the murder of ten teenaged girls is disturbing your beauty sleep.
Silence.
Then he turned around, that cheesy grin plastered across his creosote-tanned face again. Ha! Quite right. Sensational Steve s a team player, he knows how to take one for the good guys. He shot me with a finger. Don t sweat it.
Dr McDonald squirmed in her seat. Your house is simply amazing, Sensational Steve, I mean it s so great, how long have you lived here, must ve taken forever to get it looking like this. Big acolyte eyes.
He swaggered back to the couch. You d think, but I only got my hands on it eleven years ago. It was my dear old mum s house, and her dad s before her. It s like a family heirloom. Got a team of architects up from Edinburgh to gut the place and completely redesign it to my personal specifications. He pointed down. Floor s Italian marble. They wanted to use slate, but I insisted. Told them: Sensational Steve knows what he wants.
What Sensational Steve wanted was dragging outside and being given a stiff kicking.
Wow. Dr McDonald gave a little gasp. You know what would be great: a tour, would you show us round, Sensational Steve, I d love that.
For you, little lady, anything.
And that s big enough for eight people. He nodded at the Jacuzzi. I think we ve seen the lot now.
Dr McDonald held up a hand and counted things off on her fingers:
Four bedrooms, one recording studio, one study, dining room, kitchen, conservatory, wine cellar, three bathrooms, living room She scrunched her face up like a happy chipmunk.
It s just the best!
Yeah, there was nothing better than getting a self-important tosser to show you around his house, boasting about how expensive and exclusive everything was. Great way to spend half an hour. And listening to Dr McDonald fawning over every word made it extra special.
Could she lay it on any thicker if she tried?
We followed Steven Wallace through to the front hall lined with yet more photos of himself.
He pointed at Dr McDonald. Don t move a muscle, I ll be back in a tick. And then he was off up the stairs, taking them two at a time. A minute later he returned with one of those teddy bears and a glossy photograph. An eight-by-ten of his own cheesy face signed in chunky black marker. He waggled the bear.
I saw you admiring the Cuddle Crew when we were talking earlier. Here, you can hug him all night and think of Sensational Steve.
Dear God, I was going to be sick.
She took the bear and the photo, bouncing on her toes as if she was about to wet herself. Thanks, they re great, I ll treasure them forever! Then she leapt forwards, kissed him on the cheek, blushed, and ran out of the front door.
Steven Wallace preened himself, then turned the Colgate grin on me. And if I can be of any further assistance, you let me know, OK? Sensational Steve is always glad to help.
I shifted my mobile to the other ear. Yes, I spoke to him. I said I would, didn t I? Gravel crunched beneath my feet as I followed the path between a pair of huge rhododendrons their seed heads like alien eyes on their dark bodies, leaves glistening sickly yellow in the sodium light.
On the other end of the phone, Michelle took a deep breath.
He won t be round again? You promise?
If he is, it ll be the last thing he does, and he knows it. The path wound through Cameron Park, the edges choked with weeds. One of the SOC tents was up ahead, its walls glowing through a copse of skeletal beech trees.
I don t want him anywhere near us, Ash. I I can t.
He won t be round again.
