Chapter Three
Eric let Marie guide him through the house. The first floor was as grand as he imagined it would be. The landing was so wide in places that it could accommodate various pieces of furniture. Each appeared well worn and could have been expensive antiques or picked up in a local charity shop. He didn’t know about such things. He was out of his depth in the company of these types of people.
Eric was a Norfolk boy, born and raised. He had never seen the appeal of the bright lights of the capital or any other city for that matter. He joined the police straight out of school, working hard and wanted to build a career here, among the people and places he knew and loved. Not that it had been easy on him. His father passed away shortly before he left high school, leaving his mother to raise both Eric and his two younger sisters.
His mother had been diagnosed with cancer the following year and it was Eric who stepped in, providing for the family. His sisters eventually made it through school and college. One, Elizabeth, set off for university while the other, Angela, now lived in the north. He didn’t begrudge them their choices. He didn’t have the same freedom as they’d enjoyed but that was okay. He wouldn’t have played it differently even if he had. His mother once worked for people like the Bettanys. Cooking or housekeeping. Taking care of all the tasks they couldn’t be bothered with or considered beneath them. Working her fingers to the bone and barely being noticed except for the days when she wasn’t at work or required payment. When she fell ill, her employment was terminated. She could no longer keep up with the pace of the job. Even when in remission, the most she could manage was a part-time position at the local co-op. She loved it, mind you. There was a far lower expectation on her to assume responsibility and that was a welcome change.
They approached a door. It was ajar and Eric could see pink wallpaper and a poster stuck to the wall above the bed. Marie noticed his hesitation as she continued on. “That’s Madeleine’s room.” As soon as she said her name, he recalled her. Madeleine was several years younger than Holly.
“Where’s Madeleine today?”
“She was due to sleep over at a friend’s house last night. Colin was working late and my choral practice was rescheduled from earlier in the week.” Marie took on a faraway look, pained. “Probably for the best she isn’t here at the moment, I suppose.”
Eric bobbed his head, saying nothing. He was glad to not be witnessing the child’s reaction to the news. That made him feel selfish and he focussed on the task in hand. At the other end of the house, Marie came to a closed door, indicating it was Holly’s. She went to open it but Eric stopped her with a gentle touch to her forearm.
“Probably best to leave it to me, if you don’t mind? I’m sure you’ve seen these types of things before on the telly.”
“Yes, of course.” She seemed flustered. Understandable under the circumstances. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” Marie stepped back, anxiously fiddling with hands. She didn’t seem comfortable meeting Eric’s eye and he waited quietly for her to take the hint and actually leave him to it. Seconds later, she did exactly that. Nodding nervously, she set off to return downstairs, pausing briefly on the landing and watching as Eric donned a pair of latex gloves he pulled from his pocket. A full forensic search of the room could be done later, if the cause of death turned out as expected. In the meantime, all he was looking for was an indication of whether Holly intended to skip her recital or not. He slipped into the bedroom, gently closing the door behind him.
The room was tidier than he expected a teenage girl’s room to be. Not that he had ever set foot in one before, apart from the one shared by his sisters obviously, but that didn’t count. There were no posters of popstars lining the walls nor any celebrity magazines casually left on the floor. All her clothing was either in the laundry basket or put away because nothing was left on show. There was a dressing table on the far side of the room, inset into the alcove alongside the chimney breast, but even this had very little in the way of what he expected to see. A hairbrush and straightening tongs lay in front of the vanity mirror, the latter still plugged into the socket on the wall. He eased the drawers open, examining the contents. It felt odd going through her underwear and he flushed, feeling the heat on his cheeks and at the base of his neck, imagining the reddening of his skin. Passing over it quickly, seeing nothing of note, he found no further make-up or cosmetics. Presumably, she took them with her to make herself up.
Thinking back, he couldn’t remember any bags being found near the body, suitable as either a travel bag or for toiletries. Maybe the search team would locate them in due course. Moving to the wardrobe, he opened the doors wide. There were two lines of clothes hanging from the rail with jumpers, trousers, and what appeared to be skirts, either rolled up or folded neatly on the shelf above. He saw nothing suggestive to indicate where Holly may or may not have planned to go.
Crossing the room, he addressed the bedside table. A digital clock radio was present, pointing towards the bed, the numbers blinking red. Perhaps there had been a power cut overnight. Opening the single drawer to the unit, he found what looked like
