‘A slum?’
‘Not technically, but it’s where the most deprived congregate.’
‘Violent?’
‘It can be, which means that a person who could walk freely in Holland Park could not necessarily do so where she lived. We’ve thought of a tradesman, although we’ve discounted that.’
‘Any reason why?’
‘We’ve checked the CCTV cameras in the area of your house. There’s a camera mounted on a traffic light not more than thirty feet away from your house. There is no sign of a handyman’s vehicle, no sign of a handyman. That’s not conclusive, and we’ve tried to correlate this with the movement around Christine Devon’s home, and yet again, no handyman.’
‘Amelia wouldn’t have let in a handyman.’
‘Why?’
‘If she were in the house on her own, she wouldn’t have felt safe.’
‘We’ve checked her friends. None of them claims to have visited her that day.’
‘Not a friend.’
‘Then who?’
‘Amelia had a problem. We’re all aware of that,’ Brice said.
‘Drugs?’
‘Cocaine, and the occasional rough man.’
‘We know about both.’
‘Maybe someone was coming around to sell her some drugs, or maybe it was one of her men.’
‘A black man?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘There’s no sign that she was with a man in the house.’
‘No signs of sexual congress, is that what you’re saying?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Then say it for what it is. No point beating around the bush here. My daughter was the indulged daughter of a rich man; she did little other than sleep around and take drugs.’
‘Disappointing?’ Goddard said.
‘Catch 22. I’m either out there making money for her to abuse, or I’m at home acting as nursemaid to her.’
‘Your wife?’
‘Goddard, I suggest you read up or ask your DCI,’ Brice said. ‘My wife died five years ago, and before that, she had not been in her daughter’s life for some time. Amelia inherited her bad habits from her.’
‘My apologies.’
‘Accepted. After that, it was just Amelia and me. She was fine until a few years back, and then the drugs, and the highs and lows. I hired staff, but they never lasted long. For the past six months, there’s been no one permanent in the house, only people on an occasional basis to clean and look after the garden.’
‘Christine Devon had cleaned at your house.’
‘There were a few different women. I remember someone from Italy, but I wasn’t there often.’
‘Any reason why?’
‘I maintain a flat in Mayfair. I’m there most of the time.’
‘And you have the house in Holland Park?’
‘My daughter’s there on her own. And besides, I need my space.’
‘Space?’ Isaac asked.
‘A woman. Clear enough?’
‘If your daughter’s there on her own, we didn’t see any evidence of wild parties, drugs, apart from your daughter’s cocaine.’
‘Amelia could be antisocial, likely to throw tantrums. In the house, she’d be in her own little world. Outside, she’d be extroverted and game for anything.’
‘It must have been difficult for you.’
‘Emotionally, sometimes. And as for my woman, she’s a university lecturer. We keep our relationship secret, or at least, we don’t go to awards nights or film premieres together. At home, we’re just a boring couple doing our own things.’
‘Your friend and Amelia?’
‘Fireworks. Amelia’s spoilt. She’s never had to work a day in her life. My friend grew up on a council estate, worked three jobs to get through university, the same as me. We’ve both known poverty, Amelia never did. Maybe, if she had…’
‘It doesn’t pay to dwell on such matters,’ Isaac said.
‘I know, and I’ve no regrets about what has happened. She had a destructive streak, the same as her mother. Amelia had attempted suicide on a couple of occasions, so I’m not as upset as you would expect. Sad, of course, but her life was unusual, and she wasn’t a happy person.’
‘Any ideas as to why she was killed?’
‘We’ve been through this before.’
‘Last time, you weren’t on our side,’ Isaac said.
‘True. I’ll go easier on you from now on.’
‘You haven’t answered the original question.’
‘I don’t know anyone who’d want her dead. Some of the men she entertained would have been regarded as dubious, but murder: that’s something else.’
‘The dilemma we have is that if your daughter and the cleaner have been murdered for the same reason, then what is it?’
‘I’m an open book. I suggest you talk to the men she went around with.’
‘We have. The murders were professional, more like assassinations. The gangs around here are mainly poorly educated individuals. This seems too complex for them.’
Chapter 4
It wasn’t expected that Isaac would attend the funeral of Christine Devon, but for some reason, he felt the need to. His parents had experienced grinding poverty when they had first arrived in England, and there seemed to be an empathy between him and the two eldest children of the murdered woman. The church was full to overflowing. There were a few faces from his earlier years; some recognised him, some didn’t. Others avoided him because he was a police officer, but he wasn’t there to conduct an investigation; he was there to support the family. Charisa, the daughter, was being consoled by her elder brother. Samuel, the youngest, had still not been seen.
The priest led the congregation in prayer and praise of the woman. Charisa said a few words, interspersed with tears, as did Billy, her brother, even mentioning Samuel’s name. At the end, a typical Caribbean religious service, the congregation burst into song, the type of song that made Isaac proud be a West Indian. Even he joined in, and it had been some time since he had been in a church.
‘I didn’t expect to see you,’ a familiar voice said. Isaac looked behind him.
‘Rasta Joe,’ he said. The man was a school friend, but they were friends no more after
