Amanda had been subconsciously touching the back of her head as she spoke, almost as if she could recall the spot where Celeste Warren had once torn a clump of her hair out, back in the day.
‘Suicide though?’ Chris shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t have thought that of her.’
‘No, me neither,’ Amanda said, ‘wouldn’t have thought it from someone as narcissistic as her.’
‘People change though, don’t they?’ Elaine suggested. ‘You said yourself, Chris, you thought she was already dead. If she’s been out of the spotlight for the last few years, maybe she’s been depressed or whatever. Missed the cut and thrust of her old life and couldn’t cope with being a has-been. Maybe age softened her, and she regretted all the bad things she’d done?’
Chris and Amanda nodded in agreement at the suggestion just as something occurred to Maya.
‘Bloody hell,’ she breathed. ‘This year is getting like 2016 was for celebrities.’
‘What do you mean?’ Amanda tuned to look at her.
‘Well, you remember how loads of celebrities died in 2016 and everyone was saying it was like there was a curse or something?’
‘Ah, yeah.’ Nicola nodded. ‘Three of my favourites died; David Bowie, Prince and George Michael. Oh, and Victoria Wood – I always loved her. What’s your point?’
‘It seems to be the same with our criminals just lately.’
Amanda looked thoughtful. ‘Yeah, I get your point. There was Gorman, the guy you and Chris did, Jim Baron, who Tony came over from Alder Street to deal with, and now Celeste Warren.’
‘You reckon somebody’s bumping off all our criminals then, Maya?’ Elaine laughed, ‘I hope they’ll not put us out of a job. I’ve got a mortgage to pay.’
Chris was about to make a quip when Kym cut him dead. ‘Do you remember the conversation you and I had about conspiracy theories?’ She stared icily at Maya, clearly unimpressed with the suggestion regardless of whether it was banter. ‘Can I even trust you to attend this crime scene, or are you going to concoct more fairy stories and come back with some magic beans?’
‘Yeah… yes… of course you can trust me,’ Maya stammered. ‘Sorry, Kym.’
‘I should think so too. Keep an eye out while you’re there for any paperwork or other clues that may suggest that Celeste was in some sort of financial difficulty. Also make a note of any medication that you find, particularly antidepressants, that sort of thing, and anything else that may indicate the state of mind she was in.
‘Basically, find me evidence to support the fact that this is the suicide it appears to be, so we can dismiss any ridiculous fantasist notions. In your own time, ladies and gentlemen, can we please get back to doing the job we’re paid for?’ Giving her usual double clap Kym flounced back to her office leaving the others suitably disgruntled.
Nicola and Chris smiled pityingly at Maya and Elaine reached over to give her a reassuring half-hug. No one liked being on the receiving end of Kym’s sharp tongue. They had all been brought to task by her at some point, which is why they empathised with Maya.
‘Her bark’s worse than her bite.’ Amanda smiled reassuringly.
‘I feel a right bloody idiot,’ Maya mumbled. ‘I suppose I was being flippant, but it is a coincidence, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know about coincidence so much. People die, Maya. And the chances are that people like Celeste, Jim Baron and Karl Gorman are all victims of the life they lead, which takes a toll on their health physically or mentally in Celeste’s case. You should know by now how logical and systematic Kym is. It’s okay to have an opinion, but don’t go getting her back up by theorising about events. She doesn’t like it.’
‘No shit, Sherlock.’ Maya grinned, feeling reassured. ‘I better go and give this job one hundred per cent then, so she has no excuse to ram those magic beans down my throat.’
Maya hurried out, concerned that CID would arrive before her and she didn’t want to keep them waiting. She went over in her mind again and again what she would need to do when she arrived at the scene. This time she really had to prove her competence to Kym. She would find the evidence she needed at the address to prove what state of mind Celeste Warren had been in and that would be that. A straightforward non-suspicious sudden death. What could possibly go wrong?
16
Maya pulled over on the long stretch of country road which led to the driveway of Celeste’s palatial home. The property wasn’t situated on a typical main road, rather a stretch which cut through the beautiful countryside, past farmers’ fields and old stone walls. The property was fronted by large, electric gates. The name Field View was engraved ornately next to a video intercom fixed to a concrete post.
Maya had parked in front of a Vauxhall Astra. The non-liveried vehicles driven by the CID and plain-clothed officers were notoriously either a white Vauxhall Astra or Corsa, all bearing the same sixty-eight registration plate. On seeing her, the driver waved. Maya approached the car, and he released the central locking so she could climb into the passenger seat.
‘Maya Barton.’ She smiled as she extended her hand.
‘Hello, Maya, I’m Dave Wainwright. I’ve been expecting you. I was just making a few notes while I was waiting.’ He tapped the familiar blue hard-backed Banner notebook that detectives used to record their actions in.
Wainwright looked about late fifties, with greying hair and a pockmarked complexion. He was rather rotund, his stomach straining against his shirt and tie. His gold wedding band dug into his sausage fingers. She supposed the typical CID lifestyle of takeaway dinners and McDonald’s lunches had taken its toll
