‘I see.’ Whitehouse nodded slowly.
Wilcox shook his head. ‘Impressive.’
‘What?’
‘Impressive what the human mind can conjure up when it’s desperate.’
Helen’s rage returned, white-hot and corrosive. ‘I want you to reopen the case of my mother’s murder.’
‘Look,’ said Wilcox, ‘I’ve got terrorists roaming the streets of London. Now, I appreciate this is very real for you, but I can’t justify reopening a case on the grounds of practically nothing. It requires manpower and resources, and most of all, proof that Fay Cooper didn’t kill your mother. If you can provide me with that, I’ll reconsider.’ The latter he added in an undertone which told her he didn’t believe she’d be able to provide any.
And he’d be right. What did she have? Some vague memory of a cyclist and a man with a dog? There were the files on Letitia’s computer, but they proved only a current sideline. What she did have was the uncertainty of a recovered drug addict, a couple of missing knives plus a missing bag and, above all, her own overwhelming sense of loss.
She rose. Wilcox was a busy man with a career to pursue and other people like herself to fob off. He could do nothing more for her. She understood that, but she still hated him for forcing her to face the fact that her mother was long gone. Mimi was dead, and the gap left behind was closing up like a scab over a cut. Scratching it would only make things worse.
To her surprise Whitehouse caught up with her in Back Hall reception.
‘Here, take my card,’ she said, and held out a pristine-looking business card as perfect as her manicured fingernails. ‘If you do find anything, no matter how insignificant you think it is, give me a call, and we’ll chat about it. I can’t promise anything, but it’ll help me get a clearer picture of what happened. In the meantime, I’ll read up on the case.’
‘Why are you being so nice to me?’
‘You sound like that doesn’t happen very often.’
‘It doesn’t.’ Except Jason, who’d been unfailingly nice, even when she’d lied to him.
Cool blue eyes sought Helen’s for a moment. ‘Maybe I understand how you feel.’
‘How can you?’
‘I lost my own mother when I was young. A hit-and-run. They never got the guy. Believe me, I know how it eats away at you.’
‘Do you think I’m making it all up? That “my mind is conjuring up images because it’s desperate”?’
Whitehouse pressed the card in her hand. ‘Here’s what I think. I think you’re confused, you’ve never really dealt with your mother’s death, and you were an unreliable witness. But, no, I don’t think you’re making it up.’
Helen left with a feeling that it hadn’t been a complete waste. DI Whitehouse was going to read up on the case. She may well come to the same conclusion, that she hadn’t enough to go on for the case to be reopened, but it gave her an element of hope.
Also, without meaning to, Wilcox had given her an idea. If he wasn’t prepared to try and find the old witnesses, she would find them herself.
Jason was having a quiet day at the market when his mobile rang.
It was Trevor. ‘Any chance you could come by the house this afternoon? There’s something I need to talk to you about.’
‘I can come now. I’ll close up for the day. Unless you want to tell me over the phone.’
‘Face to face is best,’ said his uncle, and hung up.
Trevor opened the door before Jason had a chance to knock. ‘I’m off to the park with Jessie. Walk with me.’
The Rottweiler was sitting by his feet, lead in mouth, wagging her tail. Trevor clipped it on and locked the door behind him.
‘Someone’s excited,’ said Jason as Jessie pulled them along the pavement, muscles rippling.
‘Best thing she knows. Some dogs love food, others just want to laze on the sofa all day. For Jessie it’s walkies. Here, girl, look what I’ve got.’
Trevor pulled a rubber ball out of his pocket, and Jessie whined and bounced up to grab it off him with what Jason could only describe as a big grin on her face. One day he’d like to have a dog like Jessie. That, and a houseful of kids. Then he remembered why he was here.
‘What did you want to—’
‘Not here,’ said Trevor.
At the park Trevor unclipped the lead and gave Jason the rubber ball to toss. Jessie ran after it, brought it down like it was prey, then trotted back, but ran off again as soon as Jason reached for it.
‘So that’s how you wanna play.’
Jessie growled in reply and moved out of his reach when he tried to take the ball again.