‘Kim!’ The shout makes Maggie jump. ‘Get up here and make your bed. What have I told you?’
Although shared by a teenager and her twenty-something sister, the room has a childish feel to it. The furniture is white MDF, the sort you might see adorned with Hello Kitty and One Direction posters in young girls’ bedrooms. The pink curtains have faded from years of sunlight. There is a photograph on the dressing table of Brenda and three young women, two of them Kimberly and Zoe. From their formal clothes, Maggie guesses it was taken at a family wedding. Zoe, the largest of the three young women, has been pushed slightly to the back of the group. Another photograph of the same three girls stands on the window ledge. This one shows them on a park bench. Kimberly and the oldest girl sit on the bench. Zoe leans over them from behind it. Kimberly and the older girl look very similar.
In the corner of the room is a small fibre-optic Christmas tree. It is the first decoration that Maggie has seen in the house.
‘What did you want to see?’ Brenda asks.
‘I just want to get a feel for her. Do you still have her clothes?’
‘Of course.’ Brenda nods towards the built-in wardrobes along one wall.
‘May I?’ Maggie slides the door to one side. The wardrobe smells like the back room of a second-hand shop but the clothes are neatly hung. On the far left of the rail hang several outfits that look new. Gently, conscious of Brenda’s barely tolerant stare on her shoulders, Maggie pulls them towards her. Several still have labels attached. She pulls out a red dress. Size 14. She moves quickly to the middle of the rail. The rest of the clothes are sizes 16 and 18.
Behind her, Brenda breathes out an impatient sigh.
‘Are these Kimberly’s?’ It seems unlikely. No way is Kimberly a size 14.
‘They were Zoe’s. She was on a diet. I always think it’s good to have an incentive.’
Several pairs of shoes, boots and trainers sit neatly on the carpeted floor of the wardrobe. Maggie crouches.
‘I bought her those cowboy boots. They were a birthday present. I don’t want it back for myself, it wouldn’t fit me, or Kimberly, and what good would one boot be anyway? She just wore them so much. Loved them, really. It’s not right it’s just stashed away in a police cupboard somewhere.’
‘I’ll mention it to DS Weston. It’s possible it’s just been forgotten about.’
Maggie picks up a court shoe, in purple patent leather. Size six. She upturns a trainer. Size six and a half. She stands, closing the door behind her and notices that Kimberly has appeared in the doorway.
‘Do you have another daughter, Brenda?’ She looks towards the wedding photograph on the dressing table. There had been no mention of a third child in any of the police reports and yet the family resemblance is strong. ‘An older girl?’
‘That’s Stacey. She lives in Aberdeen. Works for an insurance firm up there.’
‘Thank you. I won’t take up any more of your time.’
The phone rings as Maggie is sitting in her car outside the Sykes’s home. It is Pete.
‘I’ve done a bit of digging on this Sirocco Silverwood,’ he says, as she tucks away the photographs she’s been studying for several minutes. ‘Real name Sarah Smith. Bright lady, once upon a time, dropped out of Dundee University in her second year. Studying English literature. Significantly, she was working in Magaluf for nearly nine months in the run-up to Wolfe’s arrest. The chances of her having met him are slim.’
‘So I can just write her off as another fruitcake obsessive?’
‘Looks like it. So what are you up to? Anywhere close to the station? Fancy a coffee? Lunch?’
‘I’m miles away. Thanks, Pete, I’ll be in touch.’
Chapter 44
From the office of
MAGGIE ROSE
The Rectory, Norton Stown, Somerset
Wednesday, 16 December 2015
Dear Hamish,
OK, I’ll admit that I’m intrigued. Not by you – all you’ve given me are impossible-to-prove conspiracy theories – but there are discrepancies surrounding your case and one of them is Zoe Sykes.
I visited her family home today. It was interesting.
Let’s be clear, I am making no promises. For what it’s worth, I still believe you to be guilty. I’m just curious to dig a little deeper. If you can go along with that, I’ll try to clear my diary so that I can visit you on Friday.
Best wishes,
Maggie
Chapter 45
Email
From: Anne Louise Moorcroft, Ellipsis Literary Agency To: Maggie Rose
Date: 17.12.2015
Subject: Hamish Wolfe Dear Maggie,
I’ve had over a dozen emails and phone calls from journalists wanting to know if Hamish Wolfe is now your client. They’ve all requested interviews, or failing that a comment at least. And social media’s going nuts.
Anything you can share?
Anne Louise
From: Maggie Rose
To: Anne Louise Moorcroft, Ellipsis Literary Agency Date: 17.12.2015