Guilty Conscious Page 6

  “Has there been anything else from Jeannie? Since the flowers?” he hesitantly asked.

  Ah yes. The flowers she had sent for the anniversary of my mother’s death. “Nothing,” I said. Nor was I hoping there to be, not with how well everything with Liene was going.

  Mills nodded slowly, chewing on a biscuit. My page loaded, and I sat forward, frowning as I looked at what was on the page.

  “Sir?”

  “Nothing for Billie Helman, but a lot for Stella Helman. And Edward Vinson,” I muttered. “Christ.”

  “What?” Mills dropped quickly from the desk and walked around to look over my shoulder.

  “Edward Vinson was involved in sexual assault allegations last year. Nothing happened to him, clearly,” I pointed out, “but the girl involved was Stella Helman.”

  “Stella Helman?” Mills repeated the name thoughtfully. “Must be Billie’s relative. A sister perhaps?”

  “Perhaps,” I muttered. “Let’s try to find Stella then.” I stood up from my chair and walked to the door. Smith drifted over, handing Mills a stack of paper that looked like statements from last night.

  “You look busy,” she observed.

  “We have a lead,” I told her. “Edward Vinson was accused of sexually assaulting a girl a year ago. Stella Helman, we think we’ve heard of her sister.”

  “Stella Helman?” she repeated, her face darkening. “You don’t know that name? You haven’t heard it?” Smith looked worried, so much so that we both stopped and fully looked at her. “Not your division, I suppose.”

  “Smith,” I said sharply. “What don’t we know?”

  Smith sighed and pulled her phone out of her pocket, saying as she scrolled, “Stella Helman committed suicide just under two weeks ago, sir.”

  I froze, and she pulled up a news article, showing it to me.

  Stella Helman, the news reports showed, found dead in the garden of her home after overdosing on prescription drugs. She was sixteen years old, the younger sister of Belinda “Billie” Helman.

  “Christ,” I muttered, handing the phone back. “Why didn’t I know that?”

  “It’s not big news, sir. This is the only place that reported it,” Smith told me, putting her phone away. “I’m guessing the family wanted to keep it quiet.”

  I groaned loudly, rubbing at my face with my hands. A sexual assault victim takes her own life, and two weeks later, the man who attacked her is murdered.

  “I’d say Billie has a very good reason to have hated Edward Vinson’s guts,” Mills said darkly.

  “She must have thought he was guilty,” I added quietly, “even when the case was thrown out.”

  “Happens all the time,” Smith said, a look of disgust on her face. “There’s a motive there, though. I can find the officer who handled the case if you want.”

  “You’re a star, Smith,” I told her. “I’m telling Sharp to promote you.”

  She blushed slightly and nodded, taking off down the hall.

  “Edward’s friends said that her harassment of him stopped recently,” Mills recalled, and we stepped to the side of the corridor, leaning against the wall. “Two weeks, maybe? She went quiet, grieving, mourning.”

  “And came back with a bite,” I finished for him. It was a motive, Smith was right, a bloody good one at that, too. I knew that if anyone ever assaulted Sally, the closest thing to a sister I’d ever have, I’d wring their sorry necks, especially if said sister committed suicide. I didn’t doubt that there was a connection there.

  “They didn’t mention it,” Mills remarked. “Not his friends, not his parents.”

  “No. We could try Freya,” I suggested. “Go to her with a fresh perspective. I don’t want to try to dredge this out of the others by calling them out.”

  Mills nodded. “What about his parents?”

  “Oh, we’ll be paying them another visit, that’s for sure,” I said angrily, cracking my knuckles. My head was a bit of a fog now, and I walked back into our office, pulled the whiteboard closer and extended the timeline.

  “So,” I snapped, “just over a year ago, Edward Vinson is accused of sexually assaulting Stella Helman. If they knew each other, even a little, then I’m guessing he knew Billie too. Charlie as well, most likely. The case is dropped, Edward is clean, starts attending university. Cut to two weeks ago, Stella takes her own life. Now I’m guessing that her doing that had something to do with the assault. If she was taking prescription medicines, they could be tied to that.”

  Mills nodded along, letting me rant.

  “Around that time, Edward and his friends stop hearing or seeing Billie Helman, who now has a dead sister to mourn. If she also blamed Edward for that, maybe she wanted vengeance. Justice for her sister she didn’t get the first time round.”

  “Also explains the state of him,” Mills added. “Whoever did that was angry, fuelled by their emotions.”

  I thought back to Edward’s battered head and agreed darkly. That was a violent, desperate attack from someone thinking more with their heart than their head.

  “Edward’s friends said that Billie used to go to university with them,” I recalled. “So, she’d know her way around the campus, maybe even have a key to some of the buildings.”

  “And if she knew Edward, if they were friends once,” Mills pointed out, “she’d know about the cameras in the courtyard, how to get around without someone, like Freya, seeing her.”

  “Reopen the case,” I told him, pointing to my computer. “I want to know the details of this assault before we go in there.” I held up a hand. “I am not talking to a girl about the assault of her sister without knowing the full story. That’s a vile thing to bring up like that.”

  “Even that person’s a murderer?”

  “A suspect,” I corrected him. “And still, not nice.”

  “Alright.” Mills looked up from the screen. “I think they did know each other, sir. According to the report, Stella, accompanied by her older sister, reported Edward on the first of November in the morning. They were at a Halloween party the night before with Billie’s university friends, and Edward assaulted her there.”

  “Two guesses as to who else might have been at that party,” I muttered.

  “A full investigation was carried out, but without any strong evidence or witnesses, there wasn’t anything to be done. Edward got away scot-free,” Mills added in there at the end.

  “Like Smith said, a common occurrence. Where was the party?” I asked. “Does it say?”

  “Just says the residence of another student but doesn’t specify who or where.”

  “Any other people listed?” I asked.

  “A few characters references vouching for Edward,” he said. “One or two are anonymous.”

  “Under eighteen,” I hazarded a guess.

  “But there is one from a Miss Fox, a fellow student.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “How many Foxes do you know, Mills?”

  “Just the one, sir.”

  “Let’s switch this up,” I decided. “I’ll go and talk to Edward’s parents again, see if they have anything more enlightening to offer about their son. You go and see Freya, see if she can give us a more personal tale than the one the others gave us earlier. Once we get the full picture of what happened with Stella, Edward and Billie, then we’ll go and have a chat with her. I don’t want to go blundering in without knowing as much as she does.”

  I didn’t like being caught off guard, especially publicly. I did, however, like going and confronting people who lied to me in my investigations. I was better at it than Mills, he still had to practice his glower, and anyway, he would be better and talking to Freya than me. I still had to practice how not to glower.

  He nodded and fished his phone out, doing the gentlemanly thing and calling the Fox household first. I decided not to bother, Mr Vinson struck me as the sort of man who’d want to kick me from his house and avoid answering questions, but if his son had something tangible to the Helman sisters, I need
ed to know.

  There came a knock at the door, and a constable poked their head in, looking at me with a grim face.

  “Chief?” I guessed.

  He nodded, and I sighed, shooed him, relievedly, away, and walked over to her office. Sharp was waiting for me, perched on her desk, arms folded, foot tapping. Not good.

  “Ma’am,” I greeted her, sliding into the office and shutting the door.

  “Smith just filled me in.”

  “She should be promoted.”

  “This is tied to Stella Helman?” she asked, ignoring me.

  I took a deep breath. “Looks that way. Edward Vinson was accused of sexually assaulting her a year ago. Edward’s friends named her sister, Billie, as being something of a harasser towards him.”

  Sharp pinched her eyes shut, her mouth a straight line. “Not good, Thatcher,” she told me, opening her eyes. They’d lost their cutting edge, and she looked at me sympathetically. “A sexual assault victim who committed suicide tied to a gruesome murder in a university dorm?”

  “I know,” I assured her. “It’s a bit of a train wreck.”

  “Putting it delicately. If the press gets wind of this, puts this link together, it’s not going to be pretty. Not for Edward Vinson’s family, not for the Helman’s, not for us.”

  “I know, ma’am,” I repeated.

  “I’ll do what I can to keep it quiet, keep the press happy with your progress, but we need this tied up quickly and quietly, Thatcher.”

  “I shan’t rest till it’s done,” I replied. She rolled her eyes at me, but her shoulder relaxed slightly. “What’s the next move? You bringing this Billie in?”

  “Not yet, but she’s a suspect. At least in terms of motive. I’m heading out to Vinson’s parents' house again. Find out why they didn’t mention the assault accusation, but I’ll give the benefit of saying they were in shock.”

  Sharp hummed. “Mills?”

  “Going to talk to our witness again. She was friends with Edward and the others, but alone, we think she might offer up a bit more. Especially going in there knowing about the assault already.”

  “Better than going in blind,” Sharp said approvingly. “What about the sister? Billie?”

  “We know she went to the university, that the assault happened at a party the others were at. She’s not there anymore, according to Edward’s friends.”

  “Not surprising.”

  “So, once we’ve got a clearer picture of what happened a year ago, we’ll have a talk with her.”

  Sharp gave me one quick, approving nod that I took as my dismissal, walking from the office as Mills appeared, pulling his coat on.

  “Freya’s agreed to talk,” he told me, “and her mother has her phone right now, so I’m not worried about the others weighing in on what she shares.”

  “Good luck,” I offered him.

  “You too,” he replied, clapping my shoulder as he walked past. I think I might need it.

  Seven

  Mills

  I sat outside Freya’s house for a moment, looking up at the humble brick home. The same as all the others on the street, two stories, bay windows at the front, a little alley down one side. Usually, I would have given the girl more time to get over her shock, a few days certainly, but not the day after. I felt guilty for it, in truth, but I knew that Thatcher was right. We couldn’t confront Billie about what happened to her sister without knowing as much as we could. It was ill-advised, risky, and above all else, insensitive. I wondered how much Freya would actually know, but I hoped that she knew Edward well enough to shed a bit of light on it all. I thought about the other girl too, Edward’s friend Fiona. I’d put her reaction down to her maybe having a little crush on him, but I wondered now if that was wrong. Maybe she knew about Stella Helman and what did or did not happen to her.

  I climbed out of the car, looking up the house, worried about the person who’d be waiting inside and what I might be about to put her through. After walking up the short drive, weeds growing through the paving stones, I rang the doorbell and took a step back. A moment later, the door swung open, and the woman from last night, who I recognised as Freya’s mother, Genevieve, gave me an uncertain smile.

  “Detective Sergeant Mills,” I introduced myself, holding out my ID. “We spoke on the phone.”

  “Of course.” She stood back and let me inside. “How is the investigation going?” she asked as she closed the door.

  “Early days right now,” I told her. “But we’re hoping that Freya can help us. If she’s ready,” I added hastily.

  “I think the sooner she talks about it, the better, myself,” Genevie said, showing me through to the small kitchen diner. “But then, I’ve always been of the mind that it’s good to get things off your chest rather than sit with them for too long.”

  “I agree,” I told her, taking the seat she offered me at the table. “Can I ask what you do?”

  “Oh, I work in a retirement home.” She handed me a cup of tea. “Lots of talking in there. Wait here a moment,” she said. “I’ll just run up and fetch Freya.”

  I nodded, cradling the warm cup in my hand as she walked away, padding quietly up the carpeted stairs. It was a nice house, modest but homely. Pictures of Freya throughout the years were left about, some old drawings, handmade pillows, candles, magnets on the fridge. A comforting, happy place, I was very glad to see. Genevieve came back a minute after, taking a seat at the table.

  “She’s just putting a jumper on,” she told me. “How long have you been a sergeant?”

  “Just over a few years now,” I said, surprised by how quickly the time had flown past.

  Ms Fox nodded and leant forward. “I looked you both up last night after I got her home,” she admitted. “It seems the two of you know your onions.”

  “You could say that,” I said with a smile.

  “That Inspector Thatcher,” she whistled quietly, “I wouldn’t want him investigating me.”

  “Not many would,” I answered.

  There was a quiet shuffle, then Freya appeared in the doorway. I gave her a polite smile, and she wandered over to her mother, sitting beside her, leaning into her side. She looked less catatonic than yesterday, but she was still very pale, with dark shadows under her eyes and her small frame huddled in a large jumper.

  “Hello, Freya.” I kept my voice low and soothing. “Do you remember me?”

  Sometimes, they didn’t, I knew that Thatcher was the more commanding, memorable presence, but Freya nodded.

  “The sergeant?”

  “That’s right. I’m sorry to bother you, both of you, so soon, but we came across some information that we’d like to get cleared up, and we thought you might be the best person to help us, Freya.”

  She brightened a bit at that. “About Edward?”

  I nodded, and she looked at her mother.

  “Should I leave?” Genevieve asked.

  “Up to Freya,” I answered. She was over eighteen, old enough to be interviewed alone, and she gave her mother a weak little nod.

  “I’ll be in the living room then,” Genevieve said, standing up and kissing her on the head before walking out of the room, tea in hand.

  I looked back to Freya, completely uncertain of where to begin with it all. In the end, I thought we’d start off easy.

  “We met some of your friends earlier today after they were done visiting you,” I told her. “Vanessa, Claude, Charlie and Fiona.”

  She nodded. “They came as soon as they heard.”

  “A good group of friends,” I observed, and she nodded again.

  “They told us about someone called Billie Helman,” I said, and she looked up from her mug, meeting my eyes.

  “Billie?”

  “And we heard, not from them, about Stella Helman.”

  Freya’s face went somehow even paler, and she nodded, taking a sip of tea. “They’re sisters. Were,” she corrected herself with a slight wince.

  “Did you know them?”

/>   Another nod and a drawn-out, reluctant sigh. “Billie was in our year first year. She was in the same lectures. Halfway through second year, she dropped out.”

  “Because of what happened to Stella?” I asked. She froze, looking uncertain of what to say next. “We know about the sexual assault allegations.” She winced again, looking down at her mug intensely. “Do you remember anything about that? What happened?”

  “He didn’t do it,” she muttered. “None of us believed it.”

  “I just want to know about what happened. The facts as you know them, Freya. Take your time,” I added when she hesitated, taking a quick slurp of my tea.

  She was quiet for a while, and then she sucked in a tight breath. “It was a Halloween party,” she began. “It was at Charlie’s house; his older sister was throwing it. We all went, and Billie brought Stella. It was the first time we really met her, and she was sweet. Stuck close to Billie, who made sure she didn’t drink or anything. They were only staying for a bit because they were going to go and watch films or something. I don’t remember much of it,” she admitted. “I remember dancing with Vanessa, and then Billie came running over all frightened and frantic because she couldn’t find Stella. We helped her look, and we found eventually, sitting in a spare room. She wouldn’t talk, just sat there and stared, so Billie picked her up and took her home. Next day, the police were round, wanting to talk to Edward. Stella said he…” She swallowed loudly.

  “It’s alright,” I assured her.

  “None of us believed it,” she said.

  “You spoke up for him,” I said, remembering her name as a character reference, and she nodded, frowning.

  “Me, Charlie, and a few others. It got dropped, there was no evidence or anything, and we all sort of forgot about it, to be honest. It was a big party. People were drinking,” she said. “Then Billie dropped out, and she started tormenting him. Threw a stone at his car, left horrid notes at his door. Campus security had to be told about her.”

  “When was the last time you saw Billie?” I asked.