Dead Guilty Read online

  To her relief, Patricia nodded then changed the subject.

  ‘Tomorrow is Sunday. My husband and I will be going to Palma to attend a service at the cathedral and shall be gone for the day.’

  ‘Leaving me here on my lonesome,’ said George with an exaggerated sigh. ‘Unless you want to come and hang out?’ he asked Maggie, who blushed again.

  ‘You have work to do, for your trial,’ Patricia told her son firmly, ‘and so does Maggie. She’ll be busy with all those interviews. It’s not her job to be at your beck and call.’

  George released a sigh even more drawn out than the last.

  ‘More’s the pity.’

  18

  Monday

  Philip watched as Maggie furtively plucked a small compact from her handbag and reapplied another layer of powder to her already matte nose.

  ‘I’m not sure that is going to suffice,’ he said, kindly. ‘I’m afraid your nose is rather too sunburnt to be disguised.’

  Smiling, Maggie snapped the compact shut and dropped it back into her bag.

  ‘Serves me right for not buying suncream with the highest SPF,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think any of us imagined it would be quite this hot.’ As though to illustrate the point, Philip removed the white cotton trilby-style sunhat he’d purchased at Palma airport when they’d arrived on Friday evening and fanned them both with it. ‘It’s nearly thirty-four degrees today, much hotter than the last time we were here.’

  They were sitting beneath a sun canopy outside Annika’s restaurant that was next door to Orquídea. It was nine thirty but neither of them had had breakfast yet, and the piquant smell of omelettes being cooked was making Philip hungry. But he felt they should wait until Patricia had joined them before ordering. She had risen early to deliver flyers to the restaurants and cafes on the beachfront: she wanted to make sure word was spreading about the renewed appeal for information ahead of the memorial service tomorrow.

  ‘How was Palma?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘We had a lovely day, thank you. Have you been into the city yet? No? You must visit the cathedral if you have the chance. It is simply stunning, one of the most beautiful examples in the world.’

  ‘I imagine it was nice to get away from Saros for a bit.’

  Philip nodded. ‘It’s not my favourite place, with obvious reason. How are the preparations for the press conference?’

  ‘Good. The mayor of Saros has agreed we can have it on the beachfront and he’s also confirmed he’ll attend the service.’

  ‘Patricia will be pleased when you tell her. I don’t know how much press interest there will be, though,’ said Philip fretfully. ‘She was disappointed by the turnout at the airport.’

  ‘She shouldn’t be. Our press office is saying the interviews she and George gave sparked a lot of interest. I think some of the bigger papers are now sending reporters out for the press conference and the service.’

  Philip cringed. He felt the memorial should be private, just them, George and now Declan, who was flying in from London later, but Patricia was insisting anyone could attend.

  ‘It will still be the special occasion you want it to be,’ said Maggie gently.

  He appreciated her perceptiveness and kindness. In fact, Philip found he was rather taken with her and any fears she might not be as nice as Katinka had vanished. Maggie was professional without being sycophantic, warm and friendly but not presumptuous. He could tell Patricia was thawing towards her too: after their meeting at the apartment on Saturday his wife had remarked that Maggie was straightforward to deal with, which for her was high praise indeed.

  This morning he was finding Maggie delightful company and the heavy sorrow that had entombed his heart the moment he saw the first road sign for Saros on the drive from the airport was easing a fraction.

  ‘It must be difficult coming back,’ said Maggie.

  Philip nodded gravely. ‘I understand why my wife wants us to be here, but if I had my way, we would be marking the anniversary privately at home.’

  He fiddled with the red band that trimmed his hat for a moment then placed it back on his head. ‘Do you think we’ll ever find out who did it? I’m sorry, I can see you weren’t expecting such a direct question,’ he said, catching her look of surprise.

  ‘I wasn’t, but since you’ve asked I shall try to answer as best I can.’ She paused, as though collecting her thoughts. ‘Sometimes all it takes to crack a case is one tiny piece of evidence. It could be something that’s been overlooked so far, or something new that suddenly presents itself. If we can get a breakthrough like that in Katy’s case then I do believe it could lead to us apprehending the killer.’

  ‘Truly?’

  Maggie nodded. ‘It’s not unheard of even in cases that have remained unsolved for decades. I don’t want to give you false hope though. We need to find that evidence first and there have been a few case reviews that haven’t thrown up anything new.’

  ‘Until DCI Walker took over – he found the jeweller.’

  ‘It was a good lead,’ she agreed. The email to Lara Steadman was another, but still Walker didn’t want the family to know about it.

  Maggie shifted her chair closer to Philip’s; the sun had crept round while they were talking and a shard was hitting her directly in her already rosy face.

  ‘Your wife might’ve mentioned that we’re re-interviewing witnesses.’

  ‘She did.’

  ‘One of them is Annika, who runs this place.’

  ‘Oh, I had no idea.’

  ‘Annika was the witness who found Katy crying on the seafront the day before she went missing. Apparently she and your wife had had a bit of a row.’

  Philip shifted awkwardly in his seat.

  ‘My wife already told the police there was no row.’

  ‘Annika’s adamant there was. In her initial statement she said Katy told her the argument was about Declan, but Annika’s now saying it was about another male Katy had met in Saros who Patricia didn’t like.’

  ‘That’s preposterous,’ said Philip. ‘Katy couldn’t possibly have met anyone else because she was always with Declan. In fact, that’s why she and Patricia rowed on the beach the day of her disappearance. Katy and Declan wanted to do something on their own in the afternoon and Patricia wanted her to spend more time with us.’

  ‘Oh. I see.’

  ‘We were honest from day one about the row on the beach, as uncomfortable as it was to admit. Had there been a row the day before we would have said so,’ Philip went on, upset that Maggie didn’t appear convinced. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, I really am. I would love for you and DCI Walker to have a new lead to follow up.’

  They sat in silence for a few moments.

  ‘Where is DCI Walker anyway?’

  ‘He’s gone to Palma to meet the Director General of Police. It’s a courtesy visit to thank him for allowing us to come to Majorca for the memorial and to hold the press conference.’

  Philip winced.

  ‘I’m afraid we’ve ruffled a few feathers along the way with the local police,’ he said. ‘My wife has been – how can I put this delicately – rather robust in her critique of their handling of the case.’

  ‘I think I’d probably be the same in her shoes,’ said Maggie generously. ‘It goes with the territory, thinking you could do it better if you were in charge.’

  Philip chuckled. ‘Patricia certainly wishes she was.’ He drained the last of his coffee. ‘Shall we order another?’

  ‘Can I please have a glass of water this time, lots of ice? I need something to cool me down.’

  Philip peered over his shoulder to see if service was close by. A man was already walking in the direction of their table so he raised his hand to beckon him closer. But as the person came into sharper focus, he gasped.

  ‘Johnnie?’

  ‘It certainly is,’ said the man, grinning.

  Philip rose to his feet.

  ‘My dear boy, what a glorious surpr
ise.’

  Gestures of intimacy didn’t always come easy to Philip but he hugged Johnnie as though his life depended on it. As they parted, he saw Maggie was staring at them curiously.

  ‘Maggie, allow me to introduce Johnnie Hickman-Ferguson, our godson. His father is one of my oldest, dearest friends. Johnnie, this is DC Maggie Neville, our new family liaison.’

  They shook hands politely.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Philip asked Johnnie. ‘The last time I spoke to your father he said you were in Brazil.’

  ‘I’ve been back a month or so. I was in London for a week then I’ve been staying at our place in Ibiza ever since. When Dad said you were all coming over to commemorate Katy, I didn’t want to miss it, so I sailed over yesterday.’

  Then, to Philip’s utter surprise, Johnnie burst into tears.

  19

  Maggie felt awkward being witness to the exchange between the two men. It was clear Philip had no idea how to console Johnnie, who was now sitting at the table weeping into his hands. He delicately patted him on the shoulder and said ‘there, there’ in a manner that was more uneasy than reassuring. Maggie thought about saying something herself but didn’t want to undermine Philip’s efforts, however ineffectual they were.

  In the end Johnnie did them both a favour by releasing a big sigh and drying his eyes and cheeks on a paper serviette plucked from the chrome dispenser in the middle of the table.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ he said gruffly. ‘Don’t know what came over me.’

  Compared to Philip, who was as neat in appearance as he was in deportment, Johnnie looked like he’d emerged from a skip. He had dirty blond hair almost as long as Maggie’s and the weathered face of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors – telltale white creases fanned out from his eyes from being screwed up against the sun. She guessed his age was early thirties and he was scantily dressed but weather appropriate in a singlet vest and scruffy shorts. She couldn’t see his feet under the table but would put money on him wearing battered Birkenstocks or Havaianas.

  ‘It’s perfectly understandable,’ said Philip kindly, then turned to Maggie. ‘Johnnie is the son of my best friend, Howard. Patricia and I are his godparents and Howard and his wife, Lydia, are George’s. Our children grew up together and Johnnie and Katy were always tremendously close.’

  Maggie’s gaze flickered towards Johnnie. He was about to say something when Annika glided over to ask if they wanted to order food yet. They all declined anything to eat, but Philip asked for coffee for him and Johnnie, while Maggie requested a glass of water.

  After Annika went, Johnnie began to talk.

  ‘My parents owned the villa where these guys were staying when Katy was murdered,’ he said to Maggie. ‘We were all devastated, and still are. That’s what set me off – being back here and seeing Philip and being reminded again how awful it was to lose her. She was an amazing girl.’

  ‘Is your father here too?’

  ‘No, just me. He’s not well enough to travel. Heart problems. And no, I don’t have any siblings, before you ask.’

  For someone whose physical appearance suggested a relaxed attitude, Johnnie Hickman-Ferguson was coming across as uptight and prickly. Maybe he resented Maggie, a stranger, seeing him cry and intruding on his reunion with Philip, or maybe he was simply distrustful of the police. He wouldn’t be the first.

  ‘Well, I am grateful you’ve made the effort,’ said Philip, ‘and I know Patricia will be too.’

  ‘Where are you staying?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘I’ll crash on my boat. I’m moored in the marina.’ He turned to Philip. ‘You’re not really staying there are you? Dad told me.’ He tilted his head towards the security gate that led from the restaurant into the Orquídea complex. Philip clasped his hands tightly as he answered the question, as though clinging onto himself for support.

  ‘Patricia thought it would be helpful if we were close to where the memorial service will be, for reasons of practicality. We did look at alternative accommodation, but ultimately Orquídea was the most convenient.’

  Johnnie arched an eyebrow.

  ‘Bit morbid, isn’t it?’

  Philip struggled to answer and Maggie felt sorry for him, because however he argued otherwise, it was morbid staying in an apartment that directly overlooked the dumping ground where his daughter’s body parts had been scattered.

  ‘It’s what Patricia wanted,’ said Philip feebly.

  Thankfully, Johnnie chose not to labour the point.

  ‘Where’s George?’ he asked.

  ‘He was asleep when I left to meet Maggie, but I imagine he’s working now. He has a big trial next week to prepare for. Declan will be arriving shortly. I think his plane touched down around eight a.m., but don’t quote me on that.’

  Johnnie reared back and bared his teeth, like a dog seconds before it unleashes a volley of barks.

  ‘You’re letting that fucker come?’

  ‘Johnnie, please,’ implored Philip. ‘There’s no need for that kind of language.’

  ‘There is where he’s concerned.’

  ‘You two were friends once, don’t forget.’

  ‘Yeah, I hadn’t forgotten,’ said Johnnie grimly.

  ‘Whatever is causing this anger, you need to let it go,’ Philip replied warily. He hated any kind of confrontation and his hand shook as he removed his hat to wipe the sweat that had accumulated under the rim.

  Maggie shifted in her seat.

  ‘I think I’ll go inside to hurry up our drinks.’

  ‘No, let me,’ said Philip, scrabbling to his feet, patently grateful for the opportunity to escape his godson’s ire.

  Watching him walk away from the table, Maggie noticed – not for the first time – that he had the gait of someone much older than sixty-one: his back was stooped and his stride uncertain.

  ‘I take it you’re no fan of Declan’s,’ she remarked to Johnnie, once Philip was beyond earshot.

  ‘No, I can’t stand him. Never could.’

  ‘Can I ask why?’

  Johnnie gazed at her, as though weighing up whether to trust her or not. After a few moments he evidently decided he could.

  ‘He was too controlling. He wanted to know where Katy was twenty-four seven. She was sick of him and wanted to call it off.’

  That stopped Maggie in her tracks. Aside from the claims that Katy had slept with the waiter Julien Ruiz, which he denied, nowhere was it documented that Katy had been anything but happy with Declan.

  ‘How come you’re so sure she wanted to call it off?’

  ‘She told me and I believed her. She wasn’t happy.’

  ‘Why?’

  Johnnie shifted in his chair.

  ‘She was only seventeen and he treated her like they’d been married for thirty years. His behaviour was suffocating. She was going to tell him before the holiday that it was over, because he was starting to guess something was up. I was surprised when the holiday still went ahead.’

  ‘She must’ve changed her mind.’

  Johnnie shook his head.

  ‘The last time I saw her she was fired up about dumping him. She couldn’t wait to go to uni and leave him behind.’

  ‘If Katy was the one planning to end the relationship, why all the hatred for Declan?’

  Johnnie raked a grubby hand through his stringy hair. ‘This is starting to feel like an interrogation,’ he grumbled.

  ‘I’m sorry, but this is significant. It’s never been suggested before that Katy was unhappy with Declan. If she wanted to end their relationship as you claim . . . well, that raises questions.’ Maggie paused. ‘Did you ever suspect he was involved in her murder, like the police did?’

  Perhaps it was the sun canopy throwing shadows, but as Johnnie glared at Maggie his light-brown eyes seemed to darken until they were almost black. He was disconcertingly intense and she quelled the urge to lean away from him.

  ‘You guys accepted his alibi. Case closed.’

  ‘Th
at’s not what I asked.’

  His eyes bored deeper into hers.

  ‘Did I think Declan was capable of killing her? Yes, I did.’

  ‘But, as you say, he had an alibi. Katy’s mum and dad.’

  ‘I know,’ said Johnnie unhappily.

  ‘I don’t remember seeing anything from you among the witness statements I’ve read.’

  ‘You wouldn’t do. The police never interviewed me because I wasn’t on the island when it happened. My parents owned a few properties in the Balearics back then, so while the Popes were staying in our villa here I went to our apartment on Ibiza with Camila, my girlfriend at the time, in a place called Es Cana. It’s where I’ve been staying since coming back from Brazil. We don’t own the villa here any more; my parents sold it after Katy died.’

  ‘When exactly did Katy tell you she wasn’t happy?’ Maggie hoped he’d answer quickly: she could see Philip starting to head back towards their table.

  ‘A few weeks before the holiday. I was passing through London for a couple of days and we met for a coffee.’

  ‘Why didn’t you come forward afterwards with that information?’

  ‘I didn’t want to upset her parents by telling the police. They were devastated enough.’

  ‘Surely they’d have wanted the police to know? It’s pretty crucial, their daughter being so unhappy with the boyfriend who was later accused of killing her,’ said Maggie hurriedly. Philip was almost upon them.

  Johnnie shook his head.

  ‘It would’ve meant them admitting they knew how she was feeling – and that they were the ones refusing to let her dump him.’

  20

  Philip’s arrival back at the table cut the conversation dead. Maggie waited a few minutes then made an excuse about needing to fetch something from her hotel room. Philip was happy to let her go and leave him and Johnnie to their reminiscing. As she got up from the table to leave, she made a point of asking Johnnie how long he’d be on the island.

  ‘At least a week, so plenty of time to catch up with everyone I need to talk to. My boat’s called La Novio,’ he added.