Nate Hicks and Saskia French. I feel sick for her.
She continues, ‘So I said – and it was impulsive and stupid, I know – she could stay at one of our properties for a bit, if that would help, and Saskia’s place in King’s Cross was the only realistic option if I wanted to keep it from Nate. Like we said, she’s been so quiet a tenant that we almost forget she’s there. Nate especially, seeing as the property’s mine.’
I frown. ‘And Saskia was fine to have a roommate all of a sudden?’
‘I said she was a family friend, that it’d only be temporary and I’d reduce the rent for that month.’ Her mouth twists into a scowl. ‘Saskia knows she’s on to a good thing. Do you know, I haven’t upped the rent on that place in seven years and how does she repay me – by turning my property into a bloody brothel!’
‘So it’s true you didn’t know about Saskia’s .?.?. profession?’
She looks horrified. ‘God no, I didn’t. I really didn’t.’
‘Saskia must have worried about it getting back to you through Alice?’ I write motive in my pad. ‘Did you have much contact with Alice once she’d moved in?’
‘No, none.’
‘Did she have your number, email address?’
‘No, I changed my email account a few years ago. We got burgled, you see. I wanted to change everything. And no, I didn’t give her my number, I just wanted the least communication possible. I said if she needed to get in contact with me, let Saskia know and I’d call her.’
I give her a dubious stare. ‘And that was it? You were going to let her stay there indefinitely?’
She brings her hands into her lap, clenches them tightly. ‘Well, no, initially I thought I’d leave her be for a few weeks and then see what her plans were. But then Christmas took over, and what with my dad, I didn’t exactly forget about her but it took a backseat. And I wouldn’t have asked her to leave just before Christmas. Bit Ebenezer Scrooge, don’t you think?’
I sit forward. ‘Gina, we know that Alice was in the Donatella Caffé on Friday December 12th, just a few days before she died. Do you think she might have been coming to tell you about what was going on in your flat? What Saskia was up to? I mean, it’s the least she could do, given the kindness you’d shown her.’
‘I’ve no idea. All I can tell you is I didn’t see her. She certainly didn’t come to the house, thank God.’ Her hand slams to her chest. ‘Oh my God, you don’t think Saskia has anything to do with this?’
‘Not necessarily,’ I lie, ‘but Saskia did lie to us. She gave us some cock-and-bull story about meeting Alice in a bar. About Alice also being a prostitute. Why would she say that?’
She thinks about this. ‘Well, look, I had nothing to do with that particular lie, but I did make it clear that I didn’t want Nate finding out about Alice being at the flat, so whatever Saskia said, she was just trying to make sure it didn’t lead back to me. As I say, she knows she’s on to a good thing. Is she going to get in trouble for this? Christ, am I?’
I ignore this, let her sweat a bit longer.
‘Gina, did Alice ever use the name Maryanne, either recently or when you knew her before? Saskia referred to her as Maryanne from the minute we met her whereas you knew her as Alice. Any idea why she’d have used a different name?’
‘None whatsoever.’ She throws her hands up. ‘Honestly, I’ve told you everything I know now. And I’m so sorry that I lied, I’ve never had so much as a library fine in my life, but I panicked. I just wanted to stay out of it. But really, this is just horrendous and I’m devastated by it all. I keep thinking if she’d just gone back to her husband, maybe she’d still be alive.’ She’s edging towards hysterical now, talking faster and faster. ‘I should have told her to go back to her husband, shouldn’t I? But I was honestly just trying to do a kind thing.’
‘I know, I know,’ I say, calming her. Then to bring her back to focus, I ask, ‘Can you remember the names of any of these forums you visited?’
She pulls at her lip, still edgy. ‘No. No, I’m sorry, I can’t. It just seems like a lifetime ago. And I don’t have that laptop anymore or you’d have been welcome to check. The bastards took it when we were burgled.’
Can’t say I’m too disappointed. If Alice had been on the forums recently, Forensics would have found them.
Although she could have been using her phone.
‘What happens now?’ Gina leans right forward and for a second I think she’s going to grab my hands but she stops about an inch short. ‘What happens about the fact I lied?’
Perverting the course of justice would be a long shot. I doubt it’d be considered in the public interest to waste valuable resources taking down a misguided Good Samaritan. Obstructing a police officer might fly, though. We’ve certainly prosecuted for less.
And yet when I look at her, all I feel is pity. Pity for a woman who tried to do a kind thing. Pity for a woman who’s run ragged looking after toddlers and policing teens while her father dies slowly under her roof.
Pity for a woman whose husband sleeps with prostitutes.
I push away my pity and summon my sternest tone. ‘We won’t do anything on this occasion, Gina. But mark my words, the threat of prosecution will be very real if I discover anything you’ve told me today to be false, or not the whole story, do you understand?’
Her eyes fill up and she starts searching for tissues in multiple pockets. ‘Thank you, Detective Kinsella. Thank you. There’s nothing else, I promise you. I just want to forget this ever happened and go home to my family.’
I stay seated as she gathers up her bags, pulls on her coat.
I say, ‘You really should speak to your husband though. Once we make an arrest and this goes to court, there’s every chance we’ll need you to go on record. Alice’s last few weeks will become public knowledge and he will find out.’
She shakes her head quickly. ‘No, no, I can’t, he’ll be so angry. If I have to in the future then so be it, but I’ll cross that bridge then .?.?.’
I think of Nate Hicks and Saskia French. Of Saskia French performing acts that any ‘self-respecting girlfriend would do if she could be bothered’. I think of Gina’s cheating ex-partner. Of the humiliation she endured.
I think about all the STDs that piece-of-shit husband has exposed her to.
‘Gina, trust me, you really need to speak to your husband.’
And I really need to speak to my boss.
*
Steele’s still out charming the top brass so I download everything onto Parnell, barely coming up for air in the hope he’ll be so dazzled by the speed of information that he’ll forget to bollock me for not halting the interview and hauling him in.
And he doesn’t bollock me. Far from it, in fact. It could be because it seems a little miserly, a little un-festive, to tear a strip off someone hours before waving them off on their hard-earned Christmas break.
It could be because he trusts me. Which makes me feel a myriad of mixed emotions, none of them particularly pleasant.
I made the right call not charging Gina, he says. However, it sounds like Saskia French might not be shown the same clemency. Her story about Maryanne working as a prostitute, especially the supposed ‘dodgy clients’ conversation, could have sent us completely in the wrong direction – hours and hours of time wasted chasing non-existent punters – and Parnell seems to view this in a much harsher light than Gina Hicks’ omission of truth. The CPS could well agree.
But then Saskia was lying to protect Gina.
Maybe I should have charged her?