A Violent End. Emma Page
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attack?’
‘Not on the face of it,’ Kelsey told him. ‘We’ll know more about it after the post-mortem.’
‘When did it happen?’
But the Chief wasn’t prepared at this juncture to give an answer, however approximate, to that question. ‘We’ll know more after the post-mortem,’ he repeated. He glanced at Christine, rocking and sobbing. ‘I think some tea—’
‘Yes, of course.’ Ian got to his feet but the Chief waved him down again. ‘Sergeant Lambert will see to it.’
Lambert went across the hall and through an open door into the kitchen. A woman’s outdoor jacket had been thrown carelessly over the back of a chair, with a shoulder-bag, a headscarf, a pair of woollen gloves, lying close by on the table. He filled the kettle and put it on to boil.
In the sitting room Christine had regained some degree of composure. She sat up and took a handkerchief from her pocket, she dabbed at her eyes.
‘I was trying to ring Karen’s foster parents, over in Wychford, just now, when you arrived,’ Ian told the Chief, ‘but I couldn’t get any reply. Karen lived with them until fairly recently. When she didn’t turn up this morning, or phone, I suddenly thought she might have taken it into her head for some reason to go over there to see them.’
The Chief asked him how long Karen had been living at Jubilee Cottage.
‘It was getting on for the end of July when she came here,’ Ian told him. ‘She came to us from a children’s home in Wychford, but she’d only been back there a short time. Before that she’d been living with the foster parents in Wychford, the people I was trying to phone just now.’ He supplied their name and address.
‘Why did she leave the foster parents?’ Kelsey asked.
‘There was some trouble with a neighbour and the Social Services thought it best if she was moved from there.’
‘How did she come to be living here with you?’
‘It was Karen’s own idea,’ Christine put in. She seemed a good deal steadier now. ‘I hadn’t seen her since she was a child, our families were never close. But I was the only living relative she knew of, so she wrote to me–entirely off her own bat–and asked if we’d be willing to have her live here. She’d already made inquiries and discovered there was a course at the Cannonbridge college that she could take. She seemed very anxious to be part of a family again, to live with someone she was related to.
‘So we met her, we had her over here for a weekend once or twice.’ She drew a shivering breath. ‘We liked her, we felt sorry for her. We talked it over and agreed to take her. It was settled that she would finish the school year where she was, and then come to us.’
‘We were very pleased at the way it was working out,’ Ian added. ‘She was settling down, working hard, doing well at the college.’
‘What was the trouble with the neighbour over in Wychford?’
‘He’s a married man, his name’s Paul Clayton. We’ve never met him. It seems the Claytons know Karen’s foster parents and Karen used to go to the Claytons sometimes to keep an eye on their children when the parents were out in the evening. The parents wouldn’t always be out together, he’d be working late–he has his own business in Wychford, something to do with electronics–and his wife would be out on some interest of her own. Mrs Clayton came home unexpectedly early one evening and found her husband and Karen together.’ He grimaced. The balloon went up.’
‘Was there any contact between Clayton and Karen while she was living here with you?’
‘Not that we know of,’ Christine answered. ‘I asked her once or twice if Clayton had been in touch with her but she was most emphatic that there’d been no contact of any kind. This morning, when we discovered she hadn’t been here all night, my first thought was that she might have met him yesterday, spent the night with him somewhere. I wanted to phone him but Ian wouldn’t let me.’
‘I couldn’t believe she was with Clayton,’ Ian explained. ‘I couldn’t believe she’d be such a fool, not after the sensible way she’d behaved all the time she’d been living here. I was sure she was with some girlfriend from the college, that she’d walk in or phone at any moment. I thought it would be madness to ring the Claytons. It could start up all kinds of trouble for them again, very probably all for nothing.’
‘Why was Karen in care in the first place?’ Kelsey wanted to know. ‘What happened to her parents?’
‘They’re both dead,’ Christine told him. Her face began to dissolve again. ‘I’m sorry.’ She put her handkerchief to her eyes. ‘It’s been such a shock.’
Sergeant Lambert came in with a tray of tea. ‘I can give you the bare bones of Karen’s history,’ Ian told Kelsey as Lambert handed round the cups. ‘Christine doesn’t know any more than I do, we only know what the Social Services told us. We never talked about the past with Karen. We thought it best if she put it all behind her and made a fresh start.’
‘What kind of past was it?’
‘Her parents lived in Okeshot, that was where Karen was born.’ Okeshot was a prosperous market town roughly the same size as Cannonbridge, eighteen miles to the south-west. ‘Her mother died when Karen was a small child, and her father didn’t remarry for some years. He died not long after the second marriage. That left Karen with her stepmother.’ He recited the string of facts in a flat monotone.
‘After a time the stepmother remarried, a man called Lorimer. Lorimer abused Karen and she became pregnant. The whole thing came out and Karen was taken into care. She had an abortion. There was a court case and Lorimer went to prison. He’s still there, as far as I know.’
Christine appeared by now to have recovered complete control. She sat sipping her tea, her face wiped clear of expression.
Ian took up the story again. ‘The stepmother stood by Lorimer. What it came down to was that she had to choose between him and Karen. The Social Services wouldn’t allow Karen to live in the same house as Lorimer again and the stepmother told them she intended to take Lorimer back when he’d served his sentence. So Karen had to remain in care.’
‘To get back to yesterday,’ Kelsey said. ‘When did you first miss Karen?’
‘We didn’t miss her till this morning, Ian told him. ‘When we saw that her bed hadn’t been slept in. We were both out yesterday evening.’ He explained about Christine’s catalogue round, the sales parties, the action-group meeting he had attended, the refreshments afterwards at the Chairman’s house. ‘It was late by the time I got back here, getting on for one o’clock. Christine was already in bed, asleep. I never gave a thought to Karen. I took it for granted she was here, safe and sound, in her bed.’
‘I got home at about a quarter to twelve,’ Christine put in. ‘I assumed Karen was in bed, she was always in bed long before that. I went straight to bed myself.’
‘Had you expected Karen to spend yesterday evening here?’ Kelsey asked her.
‘I asked her at breakfast what she would be doing after college but she said she wasn’t sure, she might go along to the public library. There’s a girl at college she was friendly with, a girl called Lynn Musgrove, she’s the only friend Karen ever mentioned. I tried to ring Lynn this morning to see if Karen was there or if she had any idea where Karen might be. Lynn wasn’t in, she’d gone out early, running, she belongs to an athletics club. I spoke to Mrs Musgrove. She told me Karen hadn’t been there at all yesterday evening. Ian was sure Karen was perfectly all right, that she’d turn up at any moment, so I went off on my rounds as usual. But I couldn’t get Karen out of my head, I was so worried about her. I decided to come back here to see if she’d come home, and if not, try to decide what to do. I’d only been back a few minutes when you arrived.’
Kelsey asked what the Musgrove household consisted of.
‘We