Free Ash & Bone by John Harvey Page B

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    'You liked her, didn't you? Maddy.'
    'She was great. A laugh, you know. But not silly, like some. Sensible. And straight, no side to her, you know what I mean? Said what she felt. She…' Vanessa's face wobbled and she fumbled for a tissue in her bag. 'It was all getting to her, you know? That's why…' She gulped air and brought her hands to her mouth. 'That's why I suggested yoga. I thought it would help, make her less stressed out.' She was unable now to hold back the tears. 'That bloody place. If it hadn't been for me, she'd never have gone. Never have been there. Never have got herself bloody killed.'
    Karen leaned closer and put her arm around the other woman's shoulders.
    Denison looked more embarrassed than usual.
    'Listen,' Karen said. 'Vanessa. If she was right, if someone was following her, intending to do her harm, it would have happened anyway. And if it was something else, pure chance, there's nothing you or anyone else could have done. Okay?'
    'Yes. Yes, I suppose so.'
    'Good.'
    Vanessa blew her nose loudly.
    'Here,' Karen said. 'Drink up.'
    At which moment Karen's mobile started to ring and she stepped out on to the street.
    Mike Ramsden's voice was indistinct.
    'Is this a crap line or are you whispering?'
    'It's a crap line.'
    'Listen, Mike. I want to know the name of Maddy Birch's ex. Address too, if you can get one. Anything else about him. How things were between them. Threats. Animosity. Anything. All right?'
    'Do what I can.'
    'Okay, soon as you get a name, call me back.'
    Karen broke the connection.

    * * *

    In the hallway of the small terraced house in Louth, Mike Ramsden slipped his phone back down into his pocket and looked for a moment at the photograph, framed and hanging on the wall, of a young Maddy Birch at her passing-out parade. Behind him, in the living room, there were more photographs, a scrapbook full to overflowing, open on the low table beside Carol Birch's chair. For the best part of an hour he had been sitting opposite her, balancing an empty cup and saucer in the palm of one hand, pretending to listen. 'I only moved up here to be near her and then she up and moved to London.'
    Ramsden sighed and turned back into the room. 'What about boyfriends?' Karen was asking Vanessa. 'Good-looking woman, not old, there must have been someone?'
    'I don't think so. No one special. I mean, if we were out, blokes would try it on, you know, giving her the chat, but she didn't seem interested. It was more like, if anything was going to happen, she wanted it to be more than just a one-night stand, you know?'
    Karen knew: only too well.
    'So, no one at all?'
    'Oh, one guy maybe. This roofer she met.'
    'Roofer?'
    'Yes, you know.' Vanessa gestured vaguely upwards. 'One of those blokes always up scaffolding, doing a lot of shouting, replacing tiles. Steve was his name. Steve Kennet.'
    'How long ago was this?'
    'Few months back, maybe more.'
    'And this was serious?'
    'Not really.'
    'You know where he lives, this Steve?'
    Vanessa shook her head. 'Archway somewhere.'
    Karen made a note of the name; if it came to it, he shouldn't be all that difficult to find.
    Less than ten minutes later Ramsden rang her back. 'Name's Patrick. Terence Patrick. I've got an address in Prestatyn: 15 Sea View Terrace.'
    'Current?'
    'I'm not sure.'
    'Shouldn't be too hard to check. Listen, Mike, if I don't get back to you inside the hour, I want you to meet me there tomorrow morning. Prestatyn. Eight. Eight thirty. I'll catch an early flight to Liverpool or Manchester and drive over.'
    'And how am I supposed to get there from the wilds of fucking Lincolnshire?'
    'Leave early.'
    Karen pressed 'disconnect' and looked at her watch. She needed to get back to the office, make some calls. She thought they'd got as much out of Vanessa Taylor as they were going to get for now. They could always talk to her again. She was thinking about Terry Patrick, how he might have heard the news of his ex-wife's death. If and when and