The Flat Read online

  She looks interested. Her eyes search my face and I know she’s making an assessment regarding my veracity. “Do you have some information you’d like to pass on to the police regarding the case?”

  “No, not exactly. I was just wondering why the police were there. At Northmoor House. Stephanie Wilmot lived miles away. Was there a specific reason the police questioned everyone in the flats?”

  She frowns and shakes her head. “No, you’re confused. We didn’t go to Northmoor House in connection with Stephanie. Like you said, she lived and died twenty miles away. There was no reason for us to question anyone in your building.”

  She’s right; I am confused. Was Ivy mistaken about the police coming round to Northmoor House? She’d seemed so sure, had even provided details of her conversation with them.

  “Sorry to have bothered you,” I tell DI Summers, turning back to the door.

  “You say you live at Northmoor House?” she asks as I’m reaching for the door handle.

  I turn to face her. “Yes, we moved there recently.”

  She seems to be considering something, then lets out a long breath and shrugs to herself. “Okay, what I’m going to tell you is public knowledge that you could find in any newspaper. I wasn’t investigating this particular case but it’s common knowledge that the police made inquiries at Northmoor House regarding a missing person. Her name was Caroline Shields.”

  “So is there a reason the police asked the residents in my building questions about Caroline Shields?”

  DI Summers nods. “Yes, there’s a very good reason. Before she disappeared, Caroline lived at Northmoor House. In the top floor flat.”

  Chapter 14

  I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. A woman went missing from our flat? It suddenly feels as if the floor is tipping away from me and I’m in danger of falling over. I lean on the sink and try to catch my breath.

  “Are you all right?’ DI Summers asks.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I just…never knew.”

  “Listen,” she says coming closer to me and putting a steadying hand on my shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, it was two years ago and Caroline didn’t actually disappear from the flat. Her car was found abandoned on the moors.”

  “So you think she was killed on the moors like those other women?”

  “I can’t discuss that.”

  “Did you question the landlord at Northmoor House? Rob North? My neighbour said he was out when the police came. Did they come back later to question him?”

  “I can’t discuss that either. And as I said, I wasn’t involved in the investigation. Look, I’m sorry to be the bearer of shocking news but I have to get back to my table now. My daughter is waiting for me.”

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.”

  “There’s no need to be sorry, Kate. I can see how this could be a shock to you. But Caroline’s disappearance is in the past. You mustn’t let it affect you.”

  I nod but say nothing. She pats me on the shoulder gently and leaves the Ladies.

  I remain leaning on the sink, my legs shaky, my mind racing. If Caroline disappeared from our flat, and if someone abducted her, wouldn’t it likely be someone who saw her every day? Who knew her? Surely the police would have investigated that angle.

  I don’t know any of the answers. The questions repeat themselves over and over in my head, niggling at my thoughts. Did someone abduct Caroline and get away with it?

  I need to find more facts regarding the case but I’m also aware how much time I’ve been in the Ladies. Marcia will probably come looking for me soon. I check myself in the mirror and try to compose myself. I can look up Caroline Shields later; for now, I have to make small talk and pretend everything’s fine. It’s important to Greg.

  But everything isn’t fine. My head is still swirling with questions as I go back to the table. Everyone is waiting for me, ready to start their meals, which have been delivered to the table already. I take my seat and force myself to smile. “Mmm, this looks good.”

  Terry pours a glass of wine for everyone and makes a toast to new friendships. As we clink our glasses, I look over to the DI’s table. She’s eating a fish stew and talking to her daughter. She doesn’t glance in my direction.

  As far as she’s concerned, the fact that Caroline lived in my flat when she disappeared is nothing for me to worry about.

  But the police aren’t infallible. They don’t know everything. They didn’t know for sure what happened to Danny Coates. They didn’t know exactly what happened to Max.

  I sip my wine. Greg makes another toast. “Here’s to the success of the bank and a profitable future.”

  We clink glasses again. But when I take a second sip of my wine, I’m not drinking to the bank or its future. I’m drinking to my own, unspoken, toast. Here’s to finding out what really happened to Caroline Shields.

  Chapter 15

  My phone wakes me up the following morning. I reach for it on the bedside table and have to feel around for it before I finally find it. Bleary-eyed, I check the name on the screen before answering. Nia.

  “Morning, Nia,” I say, my voice thick. How much did I drink last night? I remember having two glasses of wine and then Terry ordering another bottle. My mind had been wandering so much that I hadn’t watched how much I was drinking. Greg also had a few too many and we left the car at the marina car park and got a taxi home.

  “Sounds like someone had a late night,” Nia says. “Are you still in bed? You know it’s nearly eleven, right?”

  “Is it?” I sit up and check the bedside clock. Nia’s right; I’ve slept most of the morning away. And I still have to go into town to get the car. I let out a low groan. I need coffee.

  Nia laughs. “Well I hope your night was worth it. Did you have a good time?”

  “Yes, we went out with Greg’s boss and his wife.”

  “Nice,” she says. “So Greg is schmoozing his way to the top, huh?”

  “No, apparently the boss takes out all new members of staff.”

  “Did he pay for all your drinks?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nice.”

  I slide out of bed and pad to the kitchen. I fill the coffee maker and lean on the counter while I wait for it to do its thing.

  “I was wondering if I could take you up on your offer,” Nia says.

  “Offer?”

  “To look after the kids for a night. If it’s not convenient, I can—”

  “No, no, it’s fine. We’d love to have them. When were you thinking?”

  “How about Saturday night?”

  That gives me a couple of days to get the spare room ready. At the moment, it’s full of boxes we haven’t unpacked yet but we need to get on with that and needing the room for Nia’s kids on the weekend will be a good impetus. “Yeah, that’s great.”

  “Awesome. I’m going to book a secluded B&B somewhere. Maybe Will and I just need to reconnect, you know?”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing more serious than that, Nia.”

  There’s a pause, then a sigh, and then she says, “I hope you’re right.”

  “Do you want me to collect them from yours on Saturday?”

  “No, you’re doing me enough of a favour as it is. I’ll bring them over to you. I’ve got your new address. How does lunchtime sound?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “See you then. Can’t wait to see your lovely new flat.” She hangs up.

  I toss my phone on the counter and look around the kitchen. The flat doesn’t feel so lovely at the moment. I can’t stop thinking about Caroline Shields. This kitchen is where she used to drink her morning coffee, unaware that her mornings were numbered. How long had she lived here before she disappeared?

  The only person I can ask won’t be able to remember details like that. Ivy might be able to remember something about Caroline, though, even if it’s something insignificant. I want to know what Caroline was like, what kind of person she was, before I go online and look up the facts
surrounding her case. Even though I never knew her, she lived here, in this space where I now live, and that makes me feel close to her. I want her to be more than just a name in an emotionless news report.

  I pour a mug of coffee and drink it at the window, looking out towards the distant cliffs and sea. A dusting of snow lies over everything like a layer of dandruff and there are more tiny flakes in the air, floating on the breeze. The snow reminds me of the leak in the kitchen ceiling last night. I go in there and check it.

  There’s a damp stain but no more water dripping down. Rob must have fixed it. He didn’t answer when we were on our way out to the Captain’s Table last night so Greg came back upstairs, wrote a note, and taped it to the landlord’s door.

  He must have read it because the leak has stopped.

  For now anyway.

  I get dressed, take a couple of painkillers for the headache that’s been throbbing in the back of my head and threatening to get worse if I don’t do something about it, and go down to Ivy’s.

  Her door is open and Winston is roaming the hallway. He ignores me today, more interested in sniffing the door to the parking area than in greeting me.

  Ivy, on the other hand, beams when she sees me. She’s standing at the door watching the cat, probably worried that he’s going to go out in the snow. “Hello, dear. Fancy a cuppa?”

  “That would be lovely,” I say.

  “Come in, then.” She goes into the kitchen and starts fussing over the tea pot and cups.

  I follow her and take a seat at the kitchen table. “Ivy, do you remember a woman who lived in the upstairs flat before Greg and I moved in? Her name was Caroline.”

  She ponders that for a moment, frowning with concentration. “Caroline? It doesn’t ring a bell, dear.”

  I’m not surprised. I’m sure Ivy can’t remember my name either. Adding that detail has probably confused her. “Well never mind her name. The woman who used to live on the top floor.”

  “Oh yes, I remember her. Lovely girl, she was.” She pours water from the kettle into the pot. “Caroline, was that her name? I’m sorry, dear, I can’t remember if that was her name or not.”

  “That was her name,” I tell her. “But that isn’t important. Did you ever speak to her?”

  “Plenty of times,” she says, bringing the pot to the table. “She used to buy little bags of treats for Winston. He loved them and he loved her. He used to purr every time he saw her.” She knits her brows. “Caroline. Yes, that was her name, now I come to think about it.”

  “She sounds nice,” I say, waiting to see if Ivy will provide any more information unprompted.

  “She always said hello,” Ivy says after a moment. “Always cheery. She never had a bad word to say about anyone.”

  “Not even Rob?” I ask.

  Her face darkens. “No, not even him. I saw the way he looked at her, though. I knew what he was thinking.” She taps the side of her head. “The same thing that goes through the minds of most men when they see a pretty girl.”

  “Do you think he fancied her?”

  “No doubt about it. I caught him snooping around her car one day. I went out to call Winston in and there was Rob, looking into her car windows. God only knows what he was up to. I said, ‘Get away from there, you, before I give you a good hiding.’ He scarpered pretty quickly, I can tell you.”

  I remember the footprints in the snow leading from the back door of the house to my car.

  “Caroline was oblivious, though. She thought he was harmless enough. The only time I saw them have harsh words was one time when she came down here and accused him of stealing her pencil case. She said nobody else had a key to the flat and there hadn’t been a break-in so he must have gone in there and taken it.”

  “What happened?”

  “He denied it, of course. He said, ‘What would I want with a stupid bloody Disney pencil case?’ That sent her into a bit of a spin. She said, ‘How would you know it’s a Disney one if you didn’t take it?’ She was clever, you see.”

  “What did he say to that?” I ask, thinking of my missing pen.

  “He told her that just about everything she owned was Disney so it was a lucky guess. He was right about that. She loved Disney princesses, even at her age. She had a handbag, purse, umbrella, the whole lot. She even dressed up as Snow White for a Christmas party. Looked lovely, she did.”

  She pours the tea. “Anyway, I told her to go to the police but she didn’t. I’m not sure they’d have done anything about it anyway. They don’t even come out if your car’s been stolen these days, never mind a pencil case.”

  “When the police came—” I begin.

  “They didn’t come, dear. I told you, they wouldn’t come out for a missing pencil case.”

  “No, I mean when they came later, after Caroline had gone missing. You said Rob was out.”

  “That’s right. I told them, ‘He’s a dodgy one, him across the corridor.’ They didn’t seem interested. Even when I offered to let them into his flat they didn’t want to know. Would Hercule Poirot have refused to look around a suspect’s flat? No, he’d have snooped around and found some clues.”

  “Did they come back later? When Rob was in?”

  She thinks for a moment and then shakes her head. “No, dear, they only came once. I never saw them again after that.”

  So Rob wasn’t interviewed by the police regarding Caroline’s disappearance. That seems like a huge oversight considering he lived in the same building.

  “Terrible thing, it was, that poor girl going missing like that,” Ivy says.

  A thought strikes me. “What happend to all her stuff? In the flat, I mean. She must have had furniture and belongings.”

  “Removal men came and took it all away,” she says. “This was some time after she disappeared. I think they were sent here by her parents. They probably couldn’t face coming here themselves, poor things.”

  “And did anyone else move in after that?”

  “Not until you and your husband came. Rob redecorated the flat after it was empty and you know how slow he is to get off his arse and get to work. Took him almost two years to get it done. Two years of banging and clattering, sawing and hammering. I thought I was going to go crazy with all that noise. I had to turn the telly right up just so I could hear my stories. And poor Winston was frightened out of his wits.”

  “I’ll bet he was.” I wonder what Rob was doing up there that required hammering and sawing. Redecoration shouldn’t involve much more than putting a lick of paint on the walls. Was the flat different before we moved in? Has he remodelled it? I have no way of knowing without seeing pictures of how it looked before.

  “Anyway, that’s all in the past now,” Ivy says. “Now you’re here. How are you settling in? Did you go out somewhere nice last night?”

  “You heard us go out?”

  She taps her ear. “I told you, I don’t miss anything, me. And I saw that note you left on Rob’s door. I can’t believe that after all that work he must have done up there, the attic’s leaking. Shoddy workmanship, you see. You can’t expect much more from him.”

  “Well I think he fixed it last night.”

  “Did he? I heard him go up there. He takes the lift, you see. Very noisy. But I didn’t hear any banging or anything. Not that I want to hear any more after two years of it.”

  “Well it’s not leaking this morning.”

  “If I were you, I’d go up there myself and check. You can’t trust him to do anything properly.”

  “I can’t go up there,” I tell her. “He’s locked the attic.”

  “What did he do that for?”

  I shrug. “Greg was going to go up there and Rob stopped him. The next day, there was a padlock on the hatch.”

  “Silly bugger. Anyone would think he’s got the crown jewels up there.”

  I finish my tea and remember my car. “Ivy, it’s been nice chatting but I’ve got to go. My car is parked in town. I’m going to go down there and get it.�
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  She looks a little disappointed. “All right, dear. You be careful out there.”

  “I will. See you later.” I go out through the open door and ascend the stairs to my flat, where I don my jacket and other cold weather gear. As I go back down to the ground floor, I search for the number of a local taxi company on my phone.

  Just before I reach the bottom of the stairs, a voice from behind me startles me. “Hi, Kate.”

  I turn to see Mike, the tenant from the first floor. He’s also wearing a jacket and a hat and looks like he’s also on his way out.

  “Hi,” I say, moving aside so he can get past me. I’m probably slowing him up by sauntering down the stairs and consulting my phone at the same time.

  He does move past me but then stops and turns to face me. “You going out?”

  “Yeah, I’m going into town.” I find a website for a taxi company and scroll through it, looking for their phone number.

  “Want a lift?” he asks.

  I look up from the phone, unsure what to say. He’s a total stranger, after all. But he’s also my neighbour.

  “It’s just that I noticed your car isn’t outside,” he says.

  “It’s at the car park in town. I was just going to get a taxi.”

  “No need for that. I’m going into town myself. Come on, I’ll drop you off.” He walks ahead of me to the exit door.

  “Hang on,” I say, stopping at Ivy’s door. While he waits for me, I shout to Ivy. “Ivy, I’m just going into town with Mike from upstairs. He’s giving me a lift. Is there anything you need?”

  “No, thank you, dear. Have a nice time.”

  Now, Mike knows that Ivy is aware of where I’m going and who with. Probably over-cautious on my part but you can’t be too careful these days.

  I follow him outside to the red Volvo I’ve seen parked out here before. “Get in,” he offers, indicating the passenger side.

  When I’m seated and putting my seatbelt on, he slides into the driver’s seat. “Which car park are we going to?”

  “The one at the marina if that’s all right.”