he said in a flat monotone that belied the ferocity of his statement, though his face had reddened. What sort of animal could do that?
And take a young girl, too.’
Foster introduced himself and Heather. ‘Let me go and
hang my coat up and use the loo,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll be
right back.’
After he disappeared, Yvonne leaned in towards the
two detectives. ‘Trevor works here full time, though like the rest of us he isn’t paid. He’s not really up to taking a proper job. He’s had a few problems, you see. We’re a bit worried how he’s going to take all this because he was very close to Katie.’
What sort of problems?’ Foster whispered.
Well, he had a job in an office somewhere and had a
nervous breakdown after his mother died. They were very
close. So he had to give the job up and he’s never been
back. He gets incapacity benefit and spends his time with us.’
‘Does he work here all week?’
‘Every day apart from Tuesday. He takes that off in lieu of Saturday’
Trevor re-emerged from the shadows at the back. ‘Sorry
about that,’ he said, sighing deeply. And sorry I’m late.
Bloody buses.’
‘Don’t worry about it, love,’ Maureen said. ‘They were
just asking us about how Katie was when she was here on
Monday. Did you notice anything different about her the
last time you saw her?’
‘No. Not in the slightest. She seemed as bright as ever.
It was Naomi’s birthday coming up, and she was looking
forward to spending time together at last.’
At last?’ Foster said. ‘Had she been away?’
‘No, no. You know what fourteenyear-old girls are like, always out, always with friends, never at home.’
Foster nodded.
‘That’s right,’ Yvonne said. ‘I remember now. She left at lunch to catch a bus to Portobello Road and get Naomi a present.’
‘Do you know what it was?’ Heather asked.
‘Some clothes. A brand I’d never heard of. And some
make-up, I think.’ She gave the name of the shops.
Heather made a note. They would get CCTV camera
footage from each of the shops, see if there was any sign of her being followed.
‘Can you cast your minds back and remember if there
were any customers in the shop who took an unusual
interest in her? Or any times you can think of when you
remember Katie having a dispute with a customer?’ Foster asked.
The three went silent.
‘You don’t have to tell me now,’ Foster said. ‘But if anything comes to mind, anything at all, no matter how trivial or inconsequential it may seem, then let us know.’ He took a card out of his wallet and put it on the counter. ‘If it’s OK, we’ll take your full names and contact details in case we need to get hold of you when you aren’t at work?’
They agreed. Heather jotted the details down before
Foster bade them farewell.
As they made their way to their car, Heather spoke.
What do you reckon to Trevor Vickers?’ she asked, looking at the name in her notebook.
Foster didn’t hear, his eye caught by two men loitering
at the curbside near the shop. One was tall, hair slicked back, walking around in circles while talking into a mobile phone. The other was squat and sullen, slouched with a camera over his shoulder, smoking. The press. The tall
one caught Foster’s eye and put his phone down. Foster
recognized him, but then all hacks looked the same to
him. The reporter narrowed his eyes, obviously pondering over why a senior detective was at the charity shop.
Routine, or something more? Let him stew, Foster
thought.
What was that?’ he asked Heather.
Heather repeated her question.
‘He fits the profile,’ Foster said.
‘There’s a profile?’
‘Yes, they’ve asked Susie Danson to do one.’
Who’s she?’
‘She’s good. Knows her stuff, rarely wrong. She thinks
it’s a man in his late thirties or early forties, who knew Katie, knew the area, who might have previous, particularly relating to teenage girls. Though she did say he had
And take a young girl, too.’
Foster introduced himself and Heather. ‘Let me go and
hang my coat up and use the loo,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll be
right back.’
After he disappeared, Yvonne leaned in towards the
two detectives. ‘Trevor works here full time, though like the rest of us he isn’t paid. He’s not really up to taking a proper job. He’s had a few problems, you see. We’re a bit worried how he’s going to take all this because he was very close to Katie.’
What sort of problems?’ Foster whispered.
Well, he had a job in an office somewhere and had a
nervous breakdown after his mother died. They were very
close. So he had to give the job up and he’s never been
back. He gets incapacity benefit and spends his time with us.’
‘Does he work here all week?’
‘Every day apart from Tuesday. He takes that off in lieu of Saturday’
Trevor re-emerged from the shadows at the back. ‘Sorry
about that,’ he said, sighing deeply. And sorry I’m late.
Bloody buses.’
‘Don’t worry about it, love,’ Maureen said. ‘They were
just asking us about how Katie was when she was here on
Monday. Did you notice anything different about her the
last time you saw her?’
‘No. Not in the slightest. She seemed as bright as ever.
It was Naomi’s birthday coming up, and she was looking
forward to spending time together at last.’
At last?’ Foster said. ‘Had she been away?’
‘No, no. You know what fourteenyear-old girls are like, always out, always with friends, never at home.’
Foster nodded.
‘That’s right,’ Yvonne said. ‘I remember now. She left at lunch to catch a bus to Portobello Road and get Naomi a present.’
‘Do you know what it was?’ Heather asked.
‘Some clothes. A brand I’d never heard of. And some
make-up, I think.’ She gave the name of the shops.
Heather made a note. They would get CCTV camera
footage from each of the shops, see if there was any sign of her being followed.
‘Can you cast your minds back and remember if there
were any customers in the shop who took an unusual
interest in her? Or any times you can think of when you
remember Katie having a dispute with a customer?’ Foster asked.
The three went silent.
‘You don’t have to tell me now,’ Foster said. ‘But if anything comes to mind, anything at all, no matter how trivial or inconsequential it may seem, then let us know.’ He took a card out of his wallet and put it on the counter. ‘If it’s OK, we’ll take your full names and contact details in case we need to get hold of you when you aren’t at work?’
They agreed. Heather jotted the details down before
Foster bade them farewell.
As they made their way to their car, Heather spoke.
What do you reckon to Trevor Vickers?’ she asked, looking at the name in her notebook.
Foster didn’t hear, his eye caught by two men loitering
at the curbside near the shop. One was tall, hair slicked back, walking around in circles while talking into a mobile phone. The other was squat and sullen, slouched with a camera over his shoulder, smoking. The press. The tall
one caught Foster’s eye and put his phone down. Foster
recognized him, but then all hacks looked the same to
him. The reporter narrowed his eyes, obviously pondering over why a senior detective was at the charity shop.
Routine, or something more? Let him stew, Foster
thought.
What was that?’ he asked Heather.
Heather repeated her question.
‘He fits the profile,’ Foster said.
‘There’s a profile?’
‘Yes, they’ve asked Susie Danson to do one.’
Who’s she?’
‘She’s good. Knows her stuff, rarely wrong. She thinks
it’s a man in his late thirties or early forties, who knew Katie, knew the area, who might have previous, particularly relating to teenage girls. Though she did say he had
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