Guilty Conscious, Oliver Davies [small books to read TXT] 📗

work yourself too hard, and I’ll let you know how it goes today.”

“Be sure to write down any insults she has for me,” I reminded her.

Elinor chuckled. “Bye-bye, Max.”

“Bye,” I replied, hanging up and putting my phone away, letting a slow breath and rolling my shoulders as the weight ebbed from them. I’d have to look up just what an arrhythmia was, but I knew it was something to do with the heart. Elinor sounded alright, though, and she was usually a good gauge of concern when it came to stuff like this. She used to be a midwife, after all. I certainly wanted to visit and hoped I’d find the time soon.

My ears pricked up as voices came down from inside, and I walked in to find Mills showing the team in. They looked around and gave me a tight nod, and I tossed the keys over the man in charge, his face just visible beneath his hood.

“Let us know what you find,” I said, following Mills up and out of the dingy basement to the outside.

“I spoke to Sharp,” Mills told me. “She said she’ll handle the university board again if need be, find out why nobody mentioned that door before.”

“Still, we should have spotted it before,” I said, and he nodded slowly, pushing his hair back from his face.

“You seem cheery,” he observed as we ducked under the tape and walked back toward the exit.

“Word on Elsie, she was awake earlier. Doctors say she’ll be fine.”

“You going to go to visit?” Mills asked. “I can cover for you if you like.”

I grinned at him and clapped him on the shoulder. “I can’t abandon you twice in two days, can I? I’ve had a thought,” I told him as the thought itself gathered in my mind. It was talking to Elinor that had done it, thinking about Elsie and Sally and the rest.

“What’s that?” Mills asked.

“I know we want to talk to Fiona about Billie and Stella, but what about Stella herself? She’d have had her own friends. Maybe they can share some insight.”

“Would any of them be suspects?” Mills asked doubtfully.

“I wouldn’t put money on it, but it’d be interesting to know if Stella kept in touch, where they stood on the whole assault. There might have been things she shared with them that she didn’t share with Billie.”

Mills nodded. “There were a few mentioned in the case file Fitzsimmons left,” he told me. “I gave it a once over last night after you left. We could try them, see if they’re willing to get in touch.”

“Good man. Gives us something to do until forensic come back with anything interesting,” I added.

“Wasco should be into Edward’s laptop soon, too,” Mills reminded me as we walked away from the campus and out into the city.

That was true. I’d rather forgotten about the laptop.

“I’m not pinning much hope on it,” I admitted to him. “I don’t think Edward was the sort to keep suspicious material on his computer. More of a peel back the floorboards kind of guy.”

Mills laughed. “Based on what?”

“Just a feeling,” I said with a shrug. “Though there might be some traces of Billie on there that would be worth our attention.”

“So, head back to the station, get in touch with Stella’s friends and pester Wasco while we wait for any results,” Mills announced, strolling along with his hands in his pockets. “Solid plan.”

“I think so too. But we need lunch first because I’m not interviewing a bunch of teenagers without sustenance.”

Mills snickered, and I jerked my head to a café across the street, striding along as my stomach rumbled as loudly as the bus that rolled by. That was another thing I remembered.

Bus times.

Fifteen

Mills

Detective Inspector Fitzsimmons’s notes were meticulous. She made a note of everything, down to a person’s facial expression, the way they shifted in their seat, whether or not the tears they dabbed at were real. It wasn’t hard to find the list of people she’d spoken to in her investigation, but since they were all underage, it meant that we couldn’t very well speak to them alone. As I ate my sandwich, flicking through the file again, Thatcher at his desk scanning through local bus routes and timetables, I landed on a name that I had not seen last night.

I chewed my mouthful quickly and swallowed, looking over to Thatcher. “Fiona,” I said, tapping the page. “Inspector Fitzsimmons mentions Fiona.” Thatcher looked over at me, blinking his grey eyes a few times. He looked tired after last night, even with the good news about Elsie he heard earlier.

“What does she say?” He asked, seemingly happy to abandon his bus routes as he propped his chin on his fist and looked at me.

“It says she spoke to Fiona as a witness from the night, same with Charlie, Vanessa and the rest,” I told him. “But it also says that she spoke to her again a few days later, wanting to see how her opinion differed from the others.”

“A bit like us,” Thatcher mused. “What about Stella? Are any of her friends mentioned?”

“Fitzsimmons only spoke to three of them, and none of them was at the party, but we have their contacts. Addresses, listed as their parents.”

Thatcher nodded. “Stella would have only been sixteen or so. Do we have a number for Fiona?”

I looked down, scanning Fitzsimmons’s neat little list, and upon finding it, I nodded. “Want me to give her a call?”

“Yep.” He got up and walked over to my desk, leaning over the file. “I’ll get in touch with the others, see if we can arrange a time to meet with them.” I scribbled down Fiona’s number then let Thatcher take the file back over to his desk, clearing my throat as I picked up the phone and dialled.

It rang for long enough that I was sure her answerphone would greet me, but she picked up at the last second.

“Hello?”

“Hello. I’m calling for Fiona Davey,” I answered pleasantly.

“Speaking,” she said,