The Whole Truth

‘We’re all just devastated. It’s awful – to think something could have happened to her –’

‘I gather it was you who went round to the house this morning?’

She folds her hands in front of her. ‘It was so unlike her. Not turning up and not calling either. I can’t remember when she was last off sick.’

‘So the last time you’d have seen her would have been yesterday?’

She nods. ‘That’s right. She was still here when I left at six.’

‘How did she seem to you?’

She considers. ‘OK. A bit preoccupied but that was nothing unusual. There are only five of us and we’re always swamped. Finding children new families – it’s such important work and she takes it so seriously –’

She stops, bites her lip. ‘I still can’t quite believe this –’

‘We think Ms Smith let a man into her flat last night – someone she knew –’

Her eyes widen. ‘Oh my God. You think – you think this man may have abducted her?’

‘We’re at a very early stage of the investigation,’ says Asante, switching evenly into police-issue platitudinese. ‘We just need to talk to him. He was tallish, dark hair. Does anyone spring to mind? A colleague, perhaps?’

Monroe frowns. ‘No. The only man on our team is Ed, and he’s five foot six and bald as an egg.’

‘What about friends, boyfriends? Anyone who might fit that description?’

She shakes her head. ‘I don’t know much about her private life. She really wasn’t one for swapping gossip at the coffee machine.’

‘You haven’t had any staff events that included partners?’

She smiles ruefully. ‘Er, no, all we do is a Christmas party and that’s strictly employees only. Even then the budget only stretches to warm cava and Aldi sausage rolls.’

Asante makes a note. ‘There’s no one else she works with who might know more?’

Monroe shakes her head. ‘I don’t think so. I was probably the closest she had to a friend in the office. Like I said, she was a very private person. But I can give you their contact details if you want to speak to them.’

Asante shifts forward a little in his seat. ‘This is probably an outlier, but is there anyone Ms Smith may have crossed paths with in the course of her job – someone who might have a grudge against her?’

Her eyes widen. ‘A client, you mean?’

He shrugs. ‘It has to be possible, surely? Like you said, it’s life-changing, what you do. And it must be the last chance for some people – the only way they’re ever going to have a child.’

‘All too many of our clients are in that position,’ she says softly. ‘It’s very sad.’

‘Of course. But in situations like that, people can get desperate – they do things they’d never think of doing otherwise.’

‘We guarantee our clients complete confidentiality, Constable.’

‘I know. And I appreciate why.’

‘I want to help – believe me – you’ve put me in a rather difficult position. Not that you meant to, of course. But I need to talk to a couple of my colleagues so we can decide what’s best to do.’

Asante knows a departure signal when he hears one. He gets to his feet and she comes round the desk to shake his hand. Behind the heavy glasses her eyes are a brilliant green, but her face is troubled.

‘So you’ll get back to me?’

She nods. ‘As soon as I can. I appreciate the urgency, I really do.’

Outside, there’s a Mums and Toddlers group going on in the main hall, and judging by the smell, Silver Threads had fish for lunch.

He drops a fiver in the Samaritans donations box on his way out.

* * *

Telephone call with Colin Boddie, pathologist

10 July 2018, 12.50 p.m.

On the call, DC G. Quinn

CB: Ah, Quinn – I gather you’re in the hot seat while Gislingham’s away.

GQ: For my sins. What have you got?

CB: Fatality on the railway line last night. Ring any bells?

GQ: Yeah, think I saw the incident alert. Suicide, right?

CB: Wrong. Her neck was broken, yes, but that didn’t kill her, for the simple reason that she was already dead –

GQ: OK –

CB: – and had been for at least the previous two hours. I would estimate TOD as sometime between nine and eleven. The high overnight temperatures make it harder to be much more specific than that, I’m afraid.

GQ: Hang on, I’m writing this down –

CB: Though whoever did kill her clearly wanted us to think it was suicide. And he’d probably have got away with it too – if those hard hatters hadn’t spotted her, there wouldn’t have been anything left to autopsy. I have to hand it to him, if you want to obliterate the evidence 15,000 tons of freight train are a pretty definitive way of doing it.

GQ: So what was the actual cause of death?

CB: Suffocation. There’s bruising around the nose, but no fibres in the airway so he probably did it with his bare hands. I’ve taken some swabs in case there’s DNA, but don’t hold your breath – it’s a fair bet he was wearing gloves.

GQ: You said ‘he’ –

CB: Almost certainly.

GQ: Just because it usually is –?