‘Is there any more?’
‘No, that’s it. You can ask Olivia if you like, but she will confirm my statement.’
‘I will take your statement, Olivia’s too, if it’s necessary.’
‘I finish my degree in a couple of months. I’m not sure if I want to sell myself again.’
‘I would have thought after one of your clients was murdered, it would not be a good option.’
‘You’re right of course. I’ve seen things, met people, been places. I’m not as naïve as you think.’
‘It is the same for me,’ Farhan said.
‘If I stop, can we meet again?’ she asked. ‘Socially, that is. Or is what I have done too much for you to forget?’
‘I think I can handle the situation. This is a murder investigation, and you are a material witness. It would not be advisable for us to meet socially at this time.’
‘A confidential witness.’
‘I don’t intend to reveal your name unless it is absolutely necessary.’
‘You don’t want anyone to know your girlfriend is a former prostitute.’ She smiled. Farhan realised she was teasing him.
‘We need to keep this professional.’
‘Sorry, I’ve embarrassed you, Detective Inspector Ahmed. We will meet again, hopefully soon. For myself, I will remain pure and chaste until you call.’
‘It may be some time.’
‘Time is not the issue. When is more important.’
They parted, unaware that they had yet again walked a significant distance. He knew he had made an error in letting his personal feelings interfere with his professional responsibilities. He would talk to Isaac when it was opportune, for advice.
***
Isaac instinctively did not like Fiona Avers from the first moment he met her at Robert Avers and Marjorie Frobisher’s home. ‘I would like to ask you about your mother.’
‘Before you carry on,’ she said, attempting to take control of the discussion, ‘I despised my mother.’
‘Why do you feel the need to tell me that before I’ve asked you any questions?’ Isaac had seen it before. The desperate need of a witness to explain their intense dislike of a person, as if somehow it exonerated them from the crime. Often it did, but not always.
‘I just want to make it clear, that’s all.’
Isaac could see why Fiona Avers had never become a major star, as her mother had. He had watched her mother on the television a few times, even downloaded some episodes of her current programme off YouTube. He also found a movie she had made twenty years previously.
He did not find the characters she portrayed particularly endearing, but Marjorie Frobisher was, had been, a beautiful woman. The daughter was not. For once he felt calm. Too often a potential witness ‒ attractive and easy to the eye ‒ had caused him to soften his interrogational style. It was not going to happen this time.
‘Are you saying that you do not miss your mother?’
‘I told you in the first sentence. Don’t you listen?’ Fiona Avers had the manners of an alley cat.
‘The disappearance of your mother and the murder of Charles Sutherland may be related. Your confrontational style is not conducive to this discussion.’
‘What do I care about Charles Sutherland? The only time I met him, he wanted to put his grubby paws all over me.’
‘And where was that?’
‘Here, in this house. My mother was having one of her celebrity get-togethers. I didn’t receive an invite ‒ too embarrassing, having her ugly daughter around.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘You’ve got two eyes. You tell me.’
‘I’m not sure I understand.’
‘I’m not beautiful, that’s the problem. I may not be totally ugly, and it doesn’t concern me, at least not too much, but to my precious mother, beauty and poise and grace were all-important. I’m clumsy, more likely to break the best china teapot than pour a cup of tea from it. That’s how she saw it. It was always the same, even from childhood.’
‘So why did you come to the party?’
‘It’s my home. I’ve a right to come, and besides my mother owed me. If she didn’t make the introductions, ensured I got a part on some programme, I would have made a scene.’
Isaac saw clearly that if Fiona Avers decided to make a scene, no one would have been able to stop her.
‘Did she help you?’
‘She pretended to. Introduced me to a couple of producers: “drop around anytime, and we’ll give you an audition”.’
‘Did they work out?’
‘Hell, no. The first one was always too busy: come next week. The other one seemed to fancy tall, plain-looking women. He showed me the casting couch; I showed him a bunch of fives and a kick in the shin. He showed me the door.’
‘What are you doing now?’
‘The word got around that I’m difficult to work with. Mother probably did little to discourage that. The only decent part on offer was the casting couch producer. I should have just let him fuck me, will next time.’
‘Seems a tough way to get ahead in your line of business,’ Isaac said.
‘Ask Mother. She’s been on more casting couches than there are casting couches. She’s a terrible tart. I assume you’ve been told.’
‘I am aware that the relationship between your father and mother was unusual.’
‘It was no relationship. She told him, he accepted. He loved her, still does, and he’s devoted to both Sam and I. Maybe not so much to Sam, but then he’s a hopeless case: drink and drugs.’
‘Your relationship with your father?’
‘He’s a wonderful man. I’ve told him enough times to give her the boot and find someone else.’
Isaac wanted to get back to the issue with Charles Sutherland. First, he needed a break. Fiona went and made two coffees. She returned and placed them
