‘Have you seen Lisa recently?’
Denise’s eyes filled. She was in bits. ‘No.’
‘When did you last see her?’
‘My birthday – in October.’
‘Had you spoken to her on the phone?’
‘Yes, well… I tried, but, because she knew I didn’t want her with him, then she wouldn’t always pick up. Talk to her personal advisor,’ Denise said. ‘He’ll tell you, same as I have, Sean was bad news, every which way.’ She played with the tissue, unfolding it then crushing it again.
‘Can you remember when you last spoke to Lisa on the phone?’
‘Yesterday.’ Her voice cracking. ‘She said she was busy. She hung up.’
Oh, God. Janet could imagine the ‘what ifs’ piling up in Denise’s head. If only I had insisted, gone round there, got her to talk to me. Changed the future. Interrupted the sequence of events. ‘Do you remember what time that was, Denise?’
She pressed the tissue to her eyes. ‘Why?’ She turned on Janet, distraught, her face a mess of snot, lips cracked and swollen, the cigarette burned down to the filter now, an awful stench in the room. Janet saw she didn’t want to think about the phone call, didn’t want to be reminded of how things might have been different.
Because we want to get a time of death as close as we can, Janet thought. But said quietly, ‘It’ll help us with the investigation.’
‘After dinner.’
Dinner being the midday meal in these parts, tea the food you had at the end of the working day. ‘Could you tell where she was when you spoke to her?’ Janet asked.
‘She was out.’
‘Did she say where?’
‘No, but it was noisy.’
‘What sort of noises?’
‘I don’t know!’ she snapped, her patience thinning. The questions distracting her from her grief.
‘People, traffic, music…?’ Janet suggested.
‘Traffic.’
‘It was after dinner, long after dinner? Could we check on your phone perhaps?’
‘It’s dead,’ Denise said. A shocked silence in the room. And Janet saw the stumble, the echo that came back at Denise like a boot in the face. Dead phone. Dead daughter. ‘I’ll put it on charge,’ Denise whispered, ‘get it for you then.’
‘Thank you,’ Janet said. ‘You told me Lisa said she was busy. How did she sound otherwise?’
Denise took another cigarette and lit it. Janet thought she’d die from asphyxiation. If only they could open the window. But it was cold and bleak out there, sky the colour of grubby white sheets. Maybe more snow coming.
‘Did she sound tired or anxious or frightened?’
‘No,’ Denise said.
‘Did you get the sense that she was with anyone else?’
