“Yes. I was with her for a bit.” She lowered her voice in case one or both of her parents were eavesdropping at the door. “Not that I talked to her much.”
Eric lowered his voice too. “Where were you? What were you up to?” For a moment, he worried he’d overcooked it and pushed too hard. He sensed she might clam up. “You’ll not be in trouble, I promise.” Flicking his eyes towards the door, acknowledging that he recognised her concerns, he sat back in an attempt to appear casual. It worked.
“We had a party at the beach. It wasn’t planned but we all came together. Nothing heavy. A few drinks and a bonfire, you know?”
“Right.” Eric was happy. They were making progress. “Your parents don’t know?” She shook her head. He tapped the side of his nose with the end of his pen. She laughed, leaving him with the impression it wasn’t necessarily him she found amusing. “Who was there?”
“Friends from the sixth form mostly. Some of the older guys came along later.”
“And Holly?”
“She was around but like I said, I didn’t speak with her very much.”
“Who did?” Eric was keen. Perhaps too keen. Amelia hesitated. “You may as well tell me. I’m going to find out eventually. It’s my job.”
She shrugged, dropping the pretence of a code of silence. “She was hanging out with Mark a lot.” Eric raised his eyebrows, encouraging her to continue as he made notes. “Mark McCall. She was with him when I saw her. It was weird, though.”
“How so?”
“She sat with him away from the rest of us. Away from the fire. It wasn’t warm last night but she sat apart. I’ll bet he was loving it.” She glanced out of the nearest window, mulling something over. “I don’t know what she saw in him. I mean, he’s nice enough and that but he’s a bit of a weirdo.”
“You think so?” Eric didn’t look up from his pad.
“Yeah. Doesn’t everyone?” It was more of a statement and she seemed offended at the possibility of him not agreeing with her. “Anyway, I saw them together, then they weren’t there.”
“What time did they leave?” She shook her head to indicate she didn’t know. “Mark McCall. How long have they been seeing each other?”
Amelia shook her head. “I’m not even sure they were an item. She never confirmed it to me but he seemed to think so. Like I said, he was a strange choice.” Eric was very interested to hear she was last seen with Mark McCall bearing in mind Jane had placed him alongside the body that very morning. “She knew how to make life hard for herself, that’s for sure.” Eric met her eye with an unspoken request for her to continue. He’d watched Janssen operate enough times to know when to keep quiet. “Well, her parents would have a fit if they knew she was knocking about with the likes of Mark, and I don’t think his dad cared for their relationship too much either, whatever it was they were to each other.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I know Holly took issue with Mark’s dad, that’s all. I saw them going at it in town the other week. Old man McCall grabbed a hold of her and Holly went mental.” She sank back into the sofa. He gazed at her, poised to continue writing but she shook her head, accompanied by a brief shrug. It was an act of childish petulance and he figured he had got as much from her as he was likely to. “I’ve no idea what it was all about. Holly never said. You’ll have to ask him about it.”
Chapter Seven
The sunlight streamed in through the window. Not for the first time, Tamara Greave bemoaned the lack of a curtain to pull across to shield her. The driver’s voice came over the intercom once again, announcing as soon as the signal change took place they would pull up to the platform at Downham Market. She checked her watch. They had been waiting there for almost fifteen minutes already. Peering up the track, she could see the platform and could easily have walked it three times over in the time they’d been waiting.
On another day she would have swapped seats but for some reason, the train was almost at capacity. Being a Sunday service, there were only two carriages laid on and this had been the only available ticket unless she was willing to travel in the afternoon. That wouldn’t do. The call came through the previous evening. DCI Marcus Galbraith had fallen ill and they needed an SIO up on the coast, so the request fell to her. Richard, her fiancé, wasn’t happy about it. The family gathering in Peterborough, arranged six months prior, was scheduled as a weekend affair and an early departure was negatively received, by him at least. Aunt Christine’s tales would have to wait until Easter or, with a bit of luck, perhaps the Christmas holidays.
Not that she owed her departure to him in that way. The reality was she wanted her promotion to be confirmed. Having worked damn hard to make DCI before turning thirty-five, she wouldn’t jeopardise it now by appearing inflexible. Besides, Richard fell for the woman who would up sticks on a whim and take off somewhere new at the drop of a hat. That was her thing. A hangover from an upbringing at the hands of arty types in bohemian Bristol.
Oh, how she loathed those large family occasions. Not only with Richard’s family but hers equally so, but arguably for altogether different reasons. Richard’s family were so staid, civilised and quite dull. Hers, on the other hand, were radically opposed to almost everything that passed as state apparatus, the police included. The police in particular. That’s one reason why she was happy to leave the west country when Richard proposed and move to the other side
