‘She didn’t have much stuff, and she usually took it with her. As I say, I thought she fucked off cos she was annoyed with me.’
She took out a tissue and blew her nose. ‘You lot are on the back foot, aren’t you? The only reason you finally tracked me down was cos Janelle been to give blood at one of those vans they set up in library car parks. She’d put my name and this place on the next of kin form… When I went to see her body in the mortuary, it was like she’d been bled out. Bloodless, like wax. Even the cuts and scratches on her body were faded. I organised a whip-round to pay for her funeral.’
‘Thank you,’ said Peterson. ‘Just a couple more things. Was she on social media?’
‘I think so.’
‘Are you on social media?’ asked John.
‘No.’
‘Really? Not even Facebook?’
The girl shook her head. ‘I think Facebook is a surveillance tool… A friend of mine has an iPhone, and he’s on social media. He says that when he talks about stuff with his mates, you know, like a type of flat-screen telly or a kind of beer they like, he starts to see adverts popping up for them on his phone. And this is stuff he hasn’t searched for on Google or nothing. So I’m off the grid.’ A look passed between John and Peterson. ‘Well, apart from when I’m at work,’ she said, indicating the computer on the desk in front of her.
‘Can we get a list of all the people who were staying here in the month up until Janelle went missing?’ asked Peterson.
‘What? That’ll take ages…’
‘I want it fast, or we’ll have to organise a warrant and that could be disruptive for your boss,’ said Peterson, sliding his card across the desk.
She took it and nodded.
* * *
An hour later, John and Peterson emerged into the cold air.
‘What’s the link? There’s nothing to link Lacey and Janelle,’ asked John.
‘They were both pretty girls,’ said Peterson. ‘Both worked in jobs which took them around London. Lacey was a temp; Janelle had her coffee bike. He could have been anywhere; he could have seen the girls anywhere…’
‘In a city of nine million people,’ added John. It started to snow again and a freezing gust of wind blew across the stark concrete. ‘Come on, let’s get a coffee and get out of here.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
There had a been a tense scene when Erika and Moss had come back down to the living room and asked Charlotte and Don about the girl pictured with Lacey in the photo album. And then much to their surprise, Charlotte had rushed out of the living room, locking herself in the bathroom. It had been left to Don to confirm that the girl’s name was Geraldine Corn.
‘We both knew Lacey and Geraldine were close,’ he said. ‘They got to know each other at high school; Lacey hated it there, and Geraldine seemed to be her only friend… For a time, she was here a lot after school; she stayed for supper and… slept over.’
‘When did you find out they were more than just friends?’ asked Moss.
Don took off his glasses and rubbed his face. ‘Charlotte walked in on them, one evening… They were in bed together.’
‘What happened?’
‘She went bonkers. Banned Geraldine from coming over again. Charlotte said that it would have been the same if we found Lacey with a boy, but the fact it was a girl, it really bothered her.’
‘Did she carry on seeing Geraldine?’ asked Erika.
‘I think so. She wasn’t allowed to have her here, but they were together at school; I’m sure at the weekends too. Charlotte didn’t want to know, and it was just brushed under the carpet, as long as Geraldine didn’t come here. I’d told Charlotte it was a phase, and I was right. When Lacey went off to University she drifted apart from Geraldine, and she had a boyfriend at university, nice lad he was, but it fizzled out.’
‘And you’re sure it was a man she was meeting for this blind date?’ asked Moss.
He looked up at them and put his glasses back on.
‘Well, yes. That’s what she said. Do you think different?’
‘We don’t know. We’re still waiting on Lacey’s phone and computer records. Thank you, Mr Greene,’ said Erika. ‘The only reason we ask about this is so we can talk to Geraldine. I’m disappointed that you didn’t come forward with this. We asked you specifically to tell us about the people Lacey knew,’ said Erika.
‘This was years ago!’
‘We need to know. When you lie, you stop us being able to do our job. Please, no secrets. I promised you I would find who did this, but I need you to be honest and open with us.’
Don nodded, put his head in his hands and started to weep. Erika briefly laid a hand on his back, and they quietly left.
* * *
‘You shouldn’t make those promises, boss,’ said Moss, when they emerged from the house and got into the waiting squad car.
‘Promises?’
‘Promising them you’ll find Lacey’s killer.’
‘I do it to hold myself to account,’ said Erika. ‘And I’ve never broken a promise.’
‘But those promises have almost broken you…’
Erika looked at Moss for a moment and then her phone rang. It was Peterson. She listened as he relayed the information they’d learned from Sada at the youth hostel in the Barbican. When she came off the phone she told Moss.
‘We should get in touch with the transport police – sounds like Janelle “acquired” this coffee bike; maybe one was reported stolen. This also puts Janelle at any number of locations across London before she went missing,’ Erika finished.
‘I’ve got details for Geraldine Corn,’ said Moss, consulting her phone. ‘She works at the local pharmacy, it’s about a mile away.’
‘Good. Let’s see if she can give us anything,’ said Erika.
Chapter Twenty-Four
They found the small run-down pharmacy on the end of a parade of local shops. A bell jangled when they opened the door, and inside was a quiet, studious atmosphere. The shelves were crammed and there was a smell of antiseptic and dust. They recognised Geraldine behind a scratched wooden counter, serving an elderly lady who had a white compression bandage taped over one eye. She was now a serious-looking young woman, compared to her teenage self in the photo album. Her white uniform was starched and spotless; her skin was very pale and flawless, and her long mousy hair was tied back at the nape of her neck.
Through a hatch behind her came a rattle of pills tipping onto a metal scale, and a fleeting glimpse of a small Indian man.
Erika and Moss waited until the lady had left, then went to the counter and introduced themselves, showing their warrant cards.
‘About time,’ said Geraldine.
‘You’re expecting us?’ asked Moss.
‘I had to find out from the local news. I was her best friend…’ She said it with anger, as if her status of best friend had been denied.
There was a buzz as the door opened and an elderly man came inside.
‘Hold on a moment,’ said Geraldine, going to serve him.
‘No. You hold on. We’d like to talk to you. Now,’ said Erika.