cars could be valeted. He sat behind the wheel and stroked it, then leant across and checked the glove compartment. The key was there along with the cash, which he counted quickly beneath the dash board. He couldn’t see anyone, but you never knew who might be watching from the shadows. Satisfied, he turned the key in the ignition and the engine purred into life. He drove with the window open along deserted streets and out onto the waste ground of Epping Forest. The car ran like a dream. As always, the temptation to keep it was almost irresistible, but he remembered the man’s words.
‘Remember, Douggie, I know where to find you.’
Reaching his destination, he glanced around. The place was deserted, as he had expected. A quick check of the car revealed that the boot was empty. Douggie shone his torch round the back seat. There was nothing there, not so much as a sweet wrapper. As his torch moved, his eye was caught by something glistening beside a dried up pool of vomit on the floor by the passenger seat. He leaned forward for a closer look and saw a gold chain with a shiny pendant attached. Douggie hesitated before reaching across to pick it up, but it was clean and didn’t smell so he slipped the trinket in his jacket pocket thinking it would make a fine gift for Mary. Then he turned to the business of torching the car.
13
SICK WITH WORRY
L ily made a special trip to the shops for ingredients to make Donna’s favourite spaghetti supper. Donna had seemed pleased to discover that Lily enjoyed cooking and didn’t mind clearing up.
‘I thought you’d be great to have around.’
‘I’m not as good as my mum,’ Lily had replied. ‘She makes the most amazing spag bol.’
But the weekend passed and Donna didn’t come home. Lily ate the spaghetti on her own.
There was still no sign of Donna when Lily woke up on Monday. Following her usual routine, she ate breakfast in front of the television before going to work. As she stood up, she heard something that stopped her in her tracks. She turned round to look at the blonde newsreader who had just announced that the body of a young black woman had been discovered on Sunday near Tufnell Park tube station in North London.
‘…Police do not yet know the dead woman’s identity and are appealing for information.’
A uniformed policeman appeared on the screen.
‘We need to establish the identity of the victim. Anyone who thinks they might be able to identify this young woman should contact the police immediately…’
He described the victim as a black female in her late teens or early twenties, slim, wearing jeans and a sleeveless turquoise t-shirt. The blonde newsreader returned to introduce another item of news with a smile that revealed perfectly even teeth.
Lily almost tripped over her feet in her haste to reach the phone. She gave her details and explained the reason for her call.
‘It’s about the dead woman they found. I think I might know who she is.’
‘Just a moment, caller, I’ll put you through.’
It seemed to take ages before another voice came on the line. While she waited Lily tried to picture what Donna had been wearing on Friday evening but she couldn’t remember. Donna had so many clothes.
‘I just saw the news on the telly, about a black woman who’s been found dead somewhere in North London. I think it might be my flatmate. At least,’ she paused, suddenly uncertain, ‘my flatmate’s gone missing. We were at a bar and she just disappeared, and she hasn’t been home since and she’s not answering her phone and I thought maybe she’d gone off with, you know, with a bloke, but now… now I think she might be the one you found.’
The woman on the other end of the line asked for her name and address.
‘When did you last see your flatmate?’
Lily hesitated. She had been out with Donna on Friday night and it was only Monday morning now, but if she told the police how recently she’d seen Donna they might not take her call
‘Remember, Douggie, I know where to find you.’
Reaching his destination, he glanced around. The place was deserted, as he had expected. A quick check of the car revealed that the boot was empty. Douggie shone his torch round the back seat. There was nothing there, not so much as a sweet wrapper. As his torch moved, his eye was caught by something glistening beside a dried up pool of vomit on the floor by the passenger seat. He leaned forward for a closer look and saw a gold chain with a shiny pendant attached. Douggie hesitated before reaching across to pick it up, but it was clean and didn’t smell so he slipped the trinket in his jacket pocket thinking it would make a fine gift for Mary. Then he turned to the business of torching the car.
13
SICK WITH WORRY
L ily made a special trip to the shops for ingredients to make Donna’s favourite spaghetti supper. Donna had seemed pleased to discover that Lily enjoyed cooking and didn’t mind clearing up.
‘I thought you’d be great to have around.’
‘I’m not as good as my mum,’ Lily had replied. ‘She makes the most amazing spag bol.’
But the weekend passed and Donna didn’t come home. Lily ate the spaghetti on her own.
There was still no sign of Donna when Lily woke up on Monday. Following her usual routine, she ate breakfast in front of the television before going to work. As she stood up, she heard something that stopped her in her tracks. She turned round to look at the blonde newsreader who had just announced that the body of a young black woman had been discovered on Sunday near Tufnell Park tube station in North London.
‘…Police do not yet know the dead woman’s identity and are appealing for information.’
A uniformed policeman appeared on the screen.
‘We need to establish the identity of the victim. Anyone who thinks they might be able to identify this young woman should contact the police immediately…’
He described the victim as a black female in her late teens or early twenties, slim, wearing jeans and a sleeveless turquoise t-shirt. The blonde newsreader returned to introduce another item of news with a smile that revealed perfectly even teeth.
Lily almost tripped over her feet in her haste to reach the phone. She gave her details and explained the reason for her call.
‘It’s about the dead woman they found. I think I might know who she is.’
‘Just a moment, caller, I’ll put you through.’
It seemed to take ages before another voice came on the line. While she waited Lily tried to picture what Donna had been wearing on Friday evening but she couldn’t remember. Donna had so many clothes.
‘I just saw the news on the telly, about a black woman who’s been found dead somewhere in North London. I think it might be my flatmate. At least,’ she paused, suddenly uncertain, ‘my flatmate’s gone missing. We were at a bar and she just disappeared, and she hasn’t been home since and she’s not answering her phone and I thought maybe she’d gone off with, you know, with a bloke, but now… now I think she might be the one you found.’
The woman on the other end of the line asked for her name and address.
‘When did you last see your flatmate?’
Lily hesitated. She had been out with Donna on Friday night and it was only Monday morning now, but if she told the police how recently she’d seen Donna they might not take her call
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