Page 90 of Worse Than Murder

I nod. I sniff hard and wipe my eyes.

‘I know I’m not on the force anymore but I’m only a phone call away. I will help out any way I can. And I know some excellent places to bury a body– should you need to,’ he says, a twinkle in his eye.

I laugh.

‘Ishouldn’t be here,’ Claire Daniels says when Alison opens the door to her.

Claire had gone around to Alison’s house. She hadn’t even bothered knocking when she saw it in darkness. Instead, she drove to the stables and knocked on Iain and Lynne’s door.

‘So why are you here?’ Alison asks.

‘Because I want to burst into tears and you’re my best friend.’

Alison pulls her into a hug. ‘What’s happened?’

Claire doesn’t answer. She breathes in Alison’s scent, holds tight onto her, and allows the tears to flow.

* * *

In the kitchen, Alison, Lynne and Iain, each with a glass of wine, and Claire with an orange juice, sit around the table while Claire tells them about the examination of the car in the warehouse.

‘Inspector Forsyth told me not to say anything. She said it was need-to-know information, but I’ve known you all since I was a baby. You’re all like family to me. I can’tnottell you.’

Alison takes her hand in hers and squeezes hard.

‘The thing is,’ Claire continues. ‘I don’t think any of us have worked on a murder investigation before. I mean, there was that tourist a few years ago, but as he was from Southampton, the police down there took over the lion’s share of the case. This is local. This involves people we know.’

‘Claire,’ Lynne begins, looking up at her through tear-filled eyes. ‘What did they look like?’

Claire is struggling to maintain her emotions. ‘They were just… it was just bones, Lynne.’

‘Could you see what they were wearing?’

She shakes her head. ‘Everything had disintegrated.’

‘Will they be able to tell who they are?’

‘They’ll take DNA from the bones, Mum,’ Alison says.

Claire sits back in her seat. Her hands go to her stomach.

‘Claire, what’s Inspector Forsyth saying about the investigation as a whole?’ Iain asks. ‘Do they think Travis was responsible?’

Lynne grabs for Iain’s hand beneath the table.

‘I don’t know. We can’t pull him in for questioning, can we? And it’s going to be difficult asking people to try and remember if they saw him on the day of the disappearance. It was thirty years ago. Who’s going to remember?’

‘I don’t think any of us will forget what we were doing on that day, at that exact time,’ Alison says. There’s a harshness to her voice. ‘I’m sure you’ll remember it second by second, won’t you Mum?’

Lynne looks at her daughter. She swallows hard and nods. ‘Of course. It’s as clear as if it was yesterday.’ She quickly looks away. ‘I was in the kitchen making a lemon cake. You girls always hated me making lemon cake. You said it tasted funny. Your dad preferred lemon to chocolate.’

There’s a whisper of a smile on her face. Alison is glaring at her, wondering where her mind is. She knows she’s about to lie.

Lynne continues. ‘I remember looking at the clock. It was just after one o’clock. I went out to call you all in for your lunch. There was only you there. You were playing with that sausage dog on a string. Do you remember that?’ she asks, looking at her.

‘Stanley.’

A smile of remembrance spreads across her face. ‘Stanley. Yes. Stanley the sausage dog.’