Blood on the Marsh (DI Susan Holden 3)

At almost exactly the same moment that Vickie Wright opened the door to Fox and Lawson, Ania Gorski appeared at the door of the Sunnymede staff room. By then, Fran Sinclair had herself brought in the promised coffee and had dallied unnecessarily as she assured Holden that Ania was just coming. Indeed it was only when Ania arrived that Fran finally departed. ‘Give me a shout if you need anything,’ she said, again unnecessarily. Holden was more interested in Ania, who seemed even more nervous than on the two previous occasions. She ought to have been getting used to answering the police’s questions, but her eyes and the twitchiness of her hands suggested ot

herwise.

‘Please, sit down.’ Holden started with platitudes designed to put Ania at her ease. ‘Thank you for coming. Sorry for interrupting your day. Do you want something to drink?’ Ania accepted a glass of water, but Holden’s small talk soon ran dry.

‘We’ve found some pictures,’ she said.

‘Pictures?’ Ania spoke as if she had never come across the word before.

‘Photographs.’

‘Ah, I understand.’

‘Photographs of you.’ Holden pushed one across the table, one of Ania on her own, with pigtails and a grey smock dress.

And only then did Ania did truly understand. Holden could see that from her face, which changed in an instant from blank incomprehension to patent alarm.

‘Did Paul Greenleaf take this photograph?’

Ania said nothing.

‘It was on his laptop.’ Holden’s voice switched from gently persuasive to not so gently assertive. ‘Did he take this photograph of you?’

Again, Ania didn’t speak, though she did nod.

‘You’re much younger than he is.’

Again she nodded.

‘He liked you to dress up like a schoolgirl, did he? Is that how he got excited?’ She paused, but there was still silence. Holden raised her voice even louder. ‘You must answer me, Ania. This is not a game we are playing. If you do not cooperate with me, it will be very bad for you. Tell me, did Paul Greenleaf make you dress up as a schoolgirl?’

Gorski gulped. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Sometimes he asked me. It was just a bit of fun.’

‘So he liked to have a bit of fun with the two of you did he?’ Holden pushed another photograph across the table, of her and the girl, both dressed as schoolgirls. ‘It’s just that the other girl looks like a real girl, maybe eleven or twelve.’

Gorski shook her head, but Holden wasn’t satisfied. She leant forward and stabbed her finger down onto the second photograph.

‘Did Greenleaf have sexual relations with the girl?’

Gorski shrieked. ‘No! He never touched her. I would never have let him. It was just a photograph. Nothing happened to her.’

‘How do I know that?’ Holden’s voice was raised too, but more controlled. ‘How do I know that nothing happened to her? I’ve only your word. How do I know that Paul Greenleaf didn’t abuse her? How do I know you didn’t help him?’

‘Ask her!’ Gorski was hysterical now. Her hands were clawing at her hair, and she had begun to rock backwards and forwards on her chair. ‘Ask her!’

Holden’s mobile rang. She saw it was Fox, and answered it. It wouldn’t hurt to let the woman stew for a minute.

By the time she had finished speaking to Fox, she knew who the girl in the photograph was, and she knew, too, that both Jim and Maureen Wright were off the radar. Maureen had gone, according to her daughter, to Reading on a shopping trip. But she didn’t know anything about her father. Or nothing that she was admitting anyway. Holden turned back towards Gorski.

‘The girl is Vickie Wright, isn’t she, Ania?’

Gorski nodded.

‘When were the photos taken?’

‘On Saturday.’ She paused, and for a moment Holden thought that that was all she was going to say. But it was as if a log jam had been released, and all in a rush the words began to tumble forth. ‘Mr Greenleaf took me to the football game on Saturday. Someone had hired a box, someone grateful for the care that Sunnymede had given to his wife, so Mr Greenleaf asked me if I’d like to go with him. And he asked other people, including Jim Wright and his daughter Vickie. I had met her a few times when she visited her grandmother in Sunnymede. Afterwards, they came back to Charlton with us. And we had some food and some drink, and then Mr Greenleaf said it would be fun if we both dressed as if we were sisters, sisters at school. So we did. And he took some photographs. But that was all that happened. Vickie said she wasn’t feeling very well, so her father took her home. And that was all, I swear.’ The effort of getting all this said with barely a pause for breath had taken a toll on Ania. She began to pant like a sprinter after a race, and sweat dribbled down her forehead.

But Holden was offering neither tea nor sympathy. ‘Did you kill Mr Greenleaf, Ania?’