and the wide-screen TV. A coffee table was strewn with Meccano and a stack of children’s books leaned against the end of the other sofa. The room was empty and Ambrose looked expectantly at Darsie.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ he said. ‘Four kids, and we’re all congenitally untidy.’ Ambrose tried not to judge the man too harshly for caring about the state of the room when he’d just heard his daughter’s best friend had been killed. He knew shock provoked unpredictable and off-kilter reactions.
‘Your daughter?’
Darsie nodded vigorously. ‘Just a minute, I’ll get Claire and her mum.’
It took so little time for Darsie to return with his wife and daughter that Ambrose knew the cowardly bastard hadn’t broken the news himself. Claire, skinny and waif-like in a fluffy white towelling dressing gown over flannel PJs and shocking pink Crocs, was still aiming for the aloof teenager look, while her mother looked tired rather than appalled. All three hovered by the door, waiting for Ambrose to take charge.
‘Please, sit down,’ he said, giving them a few moments to arrange themselves on the sofa. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s important.’
Claire shrugged. ‘Whatever. It’s no big. Just ‘cos Jen’s busted her halo and stayed out late.’
Ambrose shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Claire. It’s a lot worse than that.’
The panicked look hit her fast. These days, given what they saw online and on TV, it didn’t take long to make the leap. Any pretence at insouciance had vanished before Ambrose could say anything further. ‘Oh my God,’ Claire wailed. ‘Something really bad’s happened to her, hasn’t it?’ Her hands flew to her face, fingers digging into her cheeks. She threw herself at her mother, who instinctively put a protective arm round her.
‘I’m afraid so,’ Ambrose said. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you that Jennifer died earlier this evening.’
Claire shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘It’s true. I’m really sorry, Claire.’ He braced himself as the girl burst into tears.
‘Give us a minute,’ her mother said, shock flushing her pink and white. ‘Please.’
Ambrose left them to it. He sat on the stairs, waiting. People thought being a copper was all action - car chases and slamming suspects up against walls. They didn’t understand that patience was what it was all about. Patterson got it. That was one of the reasons Ambrose liked his boss. Patterson didn’t transfer the pressure from above for results to his team. It wasn’t that he lacked a sense of urgency, just that he believed some things took their own time.
Ten minutes passed before David Darsie slipped out of the living room. ‘They need a bit longer. Can I get you a brew?’
‘Coffee, please. Black, two sugars.’
He nursed the coffee for a further ten minutes before Mrs Darsie joined him. ‘She’s very upset,’ she said. ‘So am I, come to that. Jennifer’s a lovely girl. They’ve been best friends since primary. The Maidments are like a second family to Claire. Same with Jennifer. They were always together, here or at Jennifer’s, or off out at the shops or whatever.’
‘That’s why Claire’s such an important witness for us,’ Ambrose said. ‘If anybody knows what Jennifer had planned for this evening, it’s likely to be your daughter. Talking to me is the best thing she can do for her friend now.’
‘She understands that. She’s just pulling herself together now, then she’ll talk to you.’ Mrs Darsie put a hand to her face, cupping her chin and cheek. ‘God, poor Tania. She was an only child, you know. Tania and Paul had been trying for ages before Jennifer came along and they doted on her. Not that they spoilt her or anything. They were quite strict. But you only had to watch them with her to see how invested they were in her.’
‘We were wondering where Mr Maidment was tonight,’ Ambrose said, making the most of her apparent willingness to discuss the Maidments.
‘He’s been in India. He owns a company that makes machine tools, he’s been out there drumming up business, trying to keep going through the credit crunch.’ Her eyes swam with tears. ‘He won’t even know about this, will he?’
‘I really couldn’t say,’ Ambrose said gently. ‘My colleagues are with Mrs Maidment now, helping her through. They’ll figure out the best way to get in touch with Mr Maidment.’ He put a warm hand on Mrs Darsie’s elbow. ‘Do you think Claire might be able to talk to me now?’
Claire was curled in a tight ball on the sofa, face flushed and eyes puffy with tears. Shrunk into herself, she looked a lot younger than fourteen. ‘You said Jennifer died,’ she said as soon as Ambrose walked in. ‘You mean somebody killed her, don’t you?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ Ambrose said, sitting opposite her as her mother adopted a protective pose again. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Did they . . . did she . . . Did they hurt her? I mean, obviously they hurt her, they killed her, right. But was it, like, torture?’ Her need for reassurance was obvious. Ambrose didn’t generally lie to witnesses, but sometimes it was the most humane course of action.
‘It would have been over very quickly,’ he said, the low rumble of his voice a comfort in itself.
‘When did it happen?’ Claire asked.
‘We can’t be sure yet. When did you see her last?’
Claire took a deep breath. ‘We came out of school together. I thought she was coming round here because we had some biology course work to do and we usually do science stuff here because my dad’s a chemistry lecturer and he can, like, help us when we get stuck with stuff. But she said no, she was going home on account of her dad is coming home tomorrow and she wanted to make a cake. Sort of, welcome home, kind of thing.’
‘That’s nice. Did she usually do something special like that when her dad had been away?’
Claire shrugged. ‘I don’t know, really. I don’t remember her doing anything like that before, but I never paid much attention. He’s always going away, her dad. Sometimes just for a couple of nights, but lately he’s been away for weeks at a time.’
