Wyre took the pen from her and began noting that information in a list so that everyone could see it presented in some sort of logical order.
‘It’s like a game of Cluedo. Partner A went off with partner B in the wherever, then our unknown murderer killed Jade Ashmore with the mallet. That’s one piece of information we are now certain of. After speaking with Bernard again this morning, it is absolutely confirmed. A small fleck of wood was also found embedded in Jade’s skull. Jade was hit repeatedly over one side of her face with the mallet. We can’t rule out other suspects. Jade was wandering around the estate and we think she was heading back to the party to look for her husband, Noah. We can’t rule out that Rhys followed her back, he is still our main suspect and he is still missing. We can’t rule out Colin Wray, Jade’s neighbour, the one Tiffany the babysitter described as creepy. Did he see her leave and follow her? The perp could have murdered Jade and still have had time to come back for their car. I can’t emphasise enough how closely they all live to each other and the crime scene.’ She gazed up at the map. The pins pointing out the crime scene and where everyone claims to have been at the time, were almost upon each other.
‘And the link to Samantha Felton?’ Wyre said as she turned her engagement ring around her finger.
‘That too. We need to investigate further. There is a clear link between them. We have the photo of Jade attending the same party as Samantha several years ago. Someone broke into Diane’s house and planted it for us to find. Who took the photo and how do these women know each other? Is the person who planted the photo the murderer? We can’t ask Jade now.’
The landline rang. Wyre walked over and picked up the phone. ‘It’s Bernard, guv. He has the results back on the hair sample. And that’s not all, a cigarette packet found at the back of Diane’s house has come up trumps.’
Twenty-Nine
Next door’s Alsatian had been pounding against the back fence for at least half an hour. Aimee wished he’d just take the dog in. The old man called out. ‘Barney, shut it, you little shit.’
Aimee grabbed her phone. There were still no messages or calls from Rhys. Her lodger Nicole had tried to call five times from Tenerife and had eventually left a message. She swallowed, hoping that the calls would just stop and that Rhys would come home. Prime suspect in a murder investigation – that was how Detective Inspector Harte had described him. She twiddled the contact card between her fingers, wondering where their investigation was going.
Over the past year her business had been doing really well. She’d gained a local soap opera star and a high-profile music producer on her books. If they found out what she’d been up to, would they still hire her to keep them in shape? All the work she’d put in could be ruined overnight. She’d have to take a job working at a gym again, that’s if they’d even have her. Along with the large sum her granny had left in her will, her high profile clients were the ones who had almost helped her pay the final chunk off her mortgage this year and that financial security could all be replaced by another minimum wage job. She imagined the headlines.Local personal trainer to the celebs in wife-swapping murder scandal.She yelled out as she screwed up Gina Harte’s card and threw it at the windowsill.
‘I hate you!’ she called as she kicked the door. The more she thought about it, the more she convinced herself that he was capable of murder. He was rough, he was dominant and he did always seem to get his own way. It was his way or no way in their relationship, that’s what Nicole had said.
The dog barked and barked. She flung the door open and yelled. ‘Shut up.’ It made no difference.
She grabbed her phone as soon as it buzzed. ‘Rhys?’
‘Aimee.’
‘Oh, Nicole.’
Her lodger and best friend remained silent for a second. Aimee knew Nicole could tell that she was holding something back. ‘I’ve been trying to call you. I saw on Facebook about that woman being killed. It’s just a few roads away. I was a bit worried and when you weren’t answering, I thought something had happened. Are you okay?’
She stared out of the kitchen window, through the smeary glass panes. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You can’t fool me, Aimee. How long have we known each other?’
Her friend was right. As she began to speak, the whole story spilled out and tears soon followed.
‘Look, just calm down. You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re too good for that loser. Promise me you’ll keep away from him if he comes sniffing around. He could be dangerous.’
She wiped her teary face. ‘I know, but murder. I’m not sure. I just don’t know any more. Urgh, I’m so confused. I want it all to go away. When are you back?’
‘Just hold tight. I’m back tonight and we’ll get through this together, I promise.’
A smile escaped from Aimee’s mouth. Nicole was right, they’d sort it out together when she got home. She was also right about Rhys. He’d been toxic for her and her best friend had noticed the change in her since they’d been together.
Rhys suddenly burst through the door, knocking Aimee’s slight frame flying against the far wall. The phone flew from her hand and slid across the kitchen floor. ‘Dammit. I didn’t know you were behind the door. Are you okay?’
He went to stroke the arm she was rubbing. ‘Get off me.’ She pushed him away from her as she struggled to stand.
‘If that’s the way you feel. You know I didn’t do anything?’ She felt her heart slamming in her chest.
‘Help me out here. I need some money. I didn’t eat yesterday.’ He ran his shaky fingers through his greasy, tangled shoulder-length hair. Eyes red and puffy. A couple of days’ worth of stubble.
‘Aimee, Aimee. Tell me you’re okay.’ Nicole’s voice filled the room.
‘I’m okay, Nicole. I’ll call you back in a bit,’ she shouted.
‘Don’t hang up—’ Rhys picked up the phone and ended the call.
‘Shit,’ he said as he began to pace back and forth. He stopped and began rummaging through the kitchen cupboard, snatching a loaf of bread, peanut butter and a few biscuits. ‘Money!’ The cupboard door he slammed began to lean on its hinges, threatening to fall off.
