did that while Kate fetched a torch to look further down the exposed pipe of the bed leg. She didn’t find anything else there. Theo also found nothing in the other leg. They renewed their search of the room with more enthusiasm but found nothing else suspicious.
They scoured the en-suite bathroom next, Kate starting with the mirror-fronted bathroom cabinet on the wall over the sink. She found several bottles of prescribed anti-depressants with Trixie’s name on the pharmacist’s label. There was an enormous quantity of luxury skincare and makeup – literally boxes of it – in the only other cupboard in the room. Perhaps Trixie had been given some of it for free? Kate couldn’t imagine how anyone would manage to get through this amount of makeup in a lifetime. She caught sight of the own face in the mirror and rubbed at her cheeks, frowning. She looked pale and tired. There were a pile of glossy fashion magazines in a rack by the toilet and topmost was one that made Kate stare and then extend a hand to pick it up. Trixie Arlen – yes, she hadn’t been mistaken –was the cover star. Kate looked at her picture; the bouncing glossy curls, the glowing skin, the flash of white teeth. A memory of Trixie’s body on the pathology table popped into Kate’s head and there was something obscene in the juxtaposition. How could someone who looked this vital, this healthy, actually be a heroin addict? Was it possible?
Searching the children’s bedrooms was somehow worst of all. Kate tried not to wince as her gloved fingers lifted out piles of neatly folded clothing, leaving them in brightly coloured heaps on the striped rug in the middle of the floor. The twin boys shared a room, two cot beds facing one another with matching duvet cover sets. Blue and white bunting hung on the wall and a little night-light, shaped like a boat, stood on a small table between the cots. Kate didn’t like to think of a mother, a parent, hiding drugs in their pre-schoolers’ room, but you couldn’t deny that it sometimes happened. She found nothing though and, relieved, went through to the little girl’s nursery to search. What was her name again? Something weird. Manon , that was it. Kate paused in the doorway blinking, taking in the excess of pink. It was as if a giant ball of Disney princesses had exploded. She took a deep breath and began the search, again finding nothing.
After several more weary hours she and Theo called it a day, the single bag of powder the only thing that resulted from a whole day’s search. They locked up the house, setting the alarm. They crawled their way back through the crowd of paparazzi; still as many, if not more, as had been there that morning. When would they get fed up of waiting? Kate thought of the headlines still to come, of the moral outrage that would result once the reality of Trixie’s death was known. She winced inwardly and put her head back against the headrest of the car seat. Theo put his finger out to turn the stereo on and then seemed to change his mind, sighing a little. They drove back to the station in tired silence.
Chapter Six
The next morning, Kate regarded her desk with something akin to dismay. The surface had all but disappeared beneath a teetering pile of cardboard folders, slippery plastic envelopes, dirty coffee mugs and veritable strata of loose paper. She thought of everything she had to do and fought the urge to push her chair back and flee the room for good. Instead, she squared her shoulders, attempted to push the toppling piles of paperwork into some sort of order, and gave thanks that she’d actually treated herself to a ‘good coffee’ for once.
Theo, who sat opposite her, kept interrupting his own work to seize his mobile phone and swipe at the screen. Kate, whose own concentration was interrupted every time he did it, gritted her teeth until she couldn’t hold back a barbed comment any longer. “Waiting for the football results, are you?”
Apparently, the
They scoured the en-suite bathroom next, Kate starting with the mirror-fronted bathroom cabinet on the wall over the sink. She found several bottles of prescribed anti-depressants with Trixie’s name on the pharmacist’s label. There was an enormous quantity of luxury skincare and makeup – literally boxes of it – in the only other cupboard in the room. Perhaps Trixie had been given some of it for free? Kate couldn’t imagine how anyone would manage to get through this amount of makeup in a lifetime. She caught sight of the own face in the mirror and rubbed at her cheeks, frowning. She looked pale and tired. There were a pile of glossy fashion magazines in a rack by the toilet and topmost was one that made Kate stare and then extend a hand to pick it up. Trixie Arlen – yes, she hadn’t been mistaken –was the cover star. Kate looked at her picture; the bouncing glossy curls, the glowing skin, the flash of white teeth. A memory of Trixie’s body on the pathology table popped into Kate’s head and there was something obscene in the juxtaposition. How could someone who looked this vital, this healthy, actually be a heroin addict? Was it possible?
Searching the children’s bedrooms was somehow worst of all. Kate tried not to wince as her gloved fingers lifted out piles of neatly folded clothing, leaving them in brightly coloured heaps on the striped rug in the middle of the floor. The twin boys shared a room, two cot beds facing one another with matching duvet cover sets. Blue and white bunting hung on the wall and a little night-light, shaped like a boat, stood on a small table between the cots. Kate didn’t like to think of a mother, a parent, hiding drugs in their pre-schoolers’ room, but you couldn’t deny that it sometimes happened. She found nothing though and, relieved, went through to the little girl’s nursery to search. What was her name again? Something weird. Manon , that was it. Kate paused in the doorway blinking, taking in the excess of pink. It was as if a giant ball of Disney princesses had exploded. She took a deep breath and began the search, again finding nothing.
After several more weary hours she and Theo called it a day, the single bag of powder the only thing that resulted from a whole day’s search. They locked up the house, setting the alarm. They crawled their way back through the crowd of paparazzi; still as many, if not more, as had been there that morning. When would they get fed up of waiting? Kate thought of the headlines still to come, of the moral outrage that would result once the reality of Trixie’s death was known. She winced inwardly and put her head back against the headrest of the car seat. Theo put his finger out to turn the stereo on and then seemed to change his mind, sighing a little. They drove back to the station in tired silence.
Chapter Six
The next morning, Kate regarded her desk with something akin to dismay. The surface had all but disappeared beneath a teetering pile of cardboard folders, slippery plastic envelopes, dirty coffee mugs and veritable strata of loose paper. She thought of everything she had to do and fought the urge to push her chair back and flee the room for good. Instead, she squared her shoulders, attempted to push the toppling piles of paperwork into some sort of order, and gave thanks that she’d actually treated herself to a ‘good coffee’ for once.
Theo, who sat opposite her, kept interrupting his own work to seize his mobile phone and swipe at the screen. Kate, whose own concentration was interrupted every time he did it, gritted her teeth until she couldn’t hold back a barbed comment any longer. “Waiting for the football results, are you?”
Apparently, the
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