pushed up easily. Silently. Jessie looked at the window box. No flowers. Well-trodden soil. Apparently P. J. Dean had less control of his wife than he thought. She took a digital camera from her bag and photographed thefootprints. Someone had been sneaking out after bedtime.
Jessie and Jones left the rock star standing at the doorway to his exorbitant mansion. Somehow the building did not reflect the man. He was still wearing his dressing gown. The boys had appeared either side of him. He put an arm around each. Jessie didn’t envy P.J. telling them.
‘Do you think he is involved?’ asked Jones once they were outside.
‘Instinctively, I’d say no, it seems too vicious for a normal man. But then I don’t suppose there is anything very normal about P. J. Dean.’
‘He has a lot of money, he could have paid someone,’ said Jones.
‘A simple overdose would’ve been more sensible.’
Jessie could see Bernie in a first-floor window, her arm around her tall son. Her shoulder came to his waist. How did such small women produce such enormous sons? He was as tall, maybe taller than P.J. and as well-built. Even the gardener watched them pull away. ‘P.J. was very candid about Verity, but clammed up about Bernie, that’s what sets my alarm bells ringing. I think there might be something going on between Bernie and P.J. The question is, has it got anything to do with Verity’s death?’
Jones rested his head on the headrest. ‘We still don’t know for sure that it is her.’
‘If we did, I’d have people all over that house.’The gates opened automatically, Jessie looked up at the CCTV camera and resisted the temptation to wave. Then she remembered the window box and stopped the car. She climbed out and ran back up the drive. Barefoot, P.J. came to meet her.
‘The security tapes? Can I have them?’ said Jessie.
P.J. shrugged. ‘Sure.’ He turned round, saw Bernie and Craig in the window and pointed to one of the cameras. Bernie opened the window.
‘What?’
‘The tapes, can you get them for the inspector.’
‘As far back as they go please,’ said Jessie.
Bernie seemed hesitant. She looked at her son. Craig said something. Jessie couldn’t catch it, but whatever it was made Bernie relax. She looked back to P.J., gave him a brief smile and disappeared.
Jessie turned to P.J. ‘You say Bernie has worked for you for twelve years. How did you find her?’
P.J. scratched his short dark hair. ‘I heard she needed a job.’
‘How?’
He shrugged. ‘I can’t remember now. Look, do you mind?’ he pointed at his feet. They were blue. ‘My feet are about to fall off.’
‘Fine. I’ll wait for the tapes, but you’ll have to answer all my questions eventually.’
‘If it’s Verity.’
‘Do you think it is?’ asked Jessie.
He didn’t answer her but his body language did. He ran his hands through his dark hair, gatheredhis dressing gown around him and crossed his arms. Then he turned away and walked back to the house. A few minutes later Bernie came out with the tapes. Twenty of them. The handover was a silent one.
Jessie returned to the car.
‘What about a crazed fan?’ said Jones as Jessie climbed back in. ‘They’ve been getting letters.’
‘ If they’ve been getting letters.’
‘You think that was a set-up?’ asked Jones.
Jessie hoped not. ‘Crazed fans kill with guns and knives. This is too planned, and very hateful. We were supposed to find her the way she was. Indistinguishable. The legs spread. The implants. What does it say about her?’
‘Not a great deal.’
‘Exactly.’ Jessie left the well-protected mansion in her rear-view mirror, the green gate sliding closed behind them. ‘Someone is making a brutal point.’
‘What happened to the boys’ real fathers? If she left them and took their kids, that’s a motive.’
‘I’ll check them out as soon as the ID is verified.’
‘Too busy being the has-beens of the future to look after their own
Landon Dixon, Giselle Renarde, Beverly Langland