She took a deep breath. “Do you have names and contact details?”
Lissom sorted through the papers in his briefcase and produced a sheet of hotel stationery, sliding it across the table. A dozen names were scrawled, the press of a blue ballpoint pen leaving ridges on the flimsy paper.
“My wife put this together,” he said. “Everyone we could think of.”
Nikki scanned the list. She was about to fold it into her pocket when one name caught her attention.
“Kevin Walker,” she murmured. “Where do I know that name?”
Lissom followed her gaze. “Until recently, Kevin was Monica’s boyfriend.”
Now she remembered—he’d been mentioned in an online gossip column. And she’d seen the name someplace else, as well.
“I’ll try,” she said. “But I can’t promise anything.”
She turned to leave when she had a thought.
She asked in a low voice, “Do you know what she’s lying about?”
His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“She lied about knowing Claire—there was a photo of them together at a club. She lied about the cocaine. I don’t know why or who she’s protecting. But she needs to tell the truth.”
His expression darkened. “Whose side are you on?”
—
Back at the office, Nikki’s mind tugged at that name: Kevin Walker. She remembered reading about him in an article about Monica’s vibrant social life. But there was something else, some other place….
She ran a search, but the ubiquitous name effectively anonymized him. She scrolled through social media platforms, but nothing stood out.
Iacopo returned, notably less irritable than before. He was telling her about a business he wanted to start with his brother-in-law, when it hit her.
She knew where she’d seen Kevin Walker’s name before.
—
Tracking down Lydia Sexton was a challenge. A search of directory services led nowhere, and the receptionist at the Albion Nanny Agency was equally unhelpful, reading aloud from a carefully lawyered statement about Claire.
Nikki broadened her search, cross-referencing the name with the areas around Gidea Park. A Lydia Sexton turned up—an early years teacher at a local primary school. When Nikki called, the office manager told her she was in luck; Lydia was just about to leave the office.
“It’s Nikki Serafino,” she said when she heard Lydia’s voice. “We spoke at Claire’s memorial—outside the pub.”
A sharp intake of breath, then, “Oh, I—I’m not supposed to talk to you!”
Nikki tensed. “Who told you that?”
A shuffling noise, then Lydia’s voice dropped. “It’s just that…Claire’s father is suing the agency for damages. Everyone’s really wound up.”
“Please,” Nikki said. “Just a few questions.”
“I’m sorry,” Lydia said.
Worried she would hang up, Nikki said urgently: “I’m trying to find out who killed your daughter. That’s all I want. I need your help.”
A long pause. Then, softly, “What do you need?”
“Claire started working for the Lakes last July,” Nikki said. “How did she get the job? Was it an agency placement?”
