The Jackal Man (12 page)

Suzie placed the baby on the beige rug with casual indifference and presented him with a wooden sorting box of the educational
kind. Then she took a seat on the sofa and gave the two policemen a businesslike smile.

‘I wasn’t sure whether to report Analise missing or not. But she’s never done anything like this before.’ She hesitated. ‘Even
though she wasn’t the most reliable …’

Gerry pounced on her words. ‘How do you mean, love?’

She gave the DCI a look of distaste. ‘She didn’t have meals ready on time and often we would start looking for clean clothes
in the mornings and then find the washing and ironing hadn’t been done. And sometimes she’d be late back when she knew I had
to go out. I had a word with her, of course, but it didn’t seem to have any effect.’ She pressed her lips together disapprovingly.

Wesley said nothing for a few moments. The concept of au pairs performing light duties in return for learning English had
obviously passed this woman by. He suspected that Analise had been regarded as little more than a cheap servant, there to
run the house while her mistress pursued her own agenda.

She glanced at the expensive watch on her wrist. ‘I’ve had to postpone an important meeting this afternoon.’ The baby started
grizzling and she gave it a look of distaste.

Wesley caught Gerry’s eye. This woman clearly had no
emotional attachment to Analise Sonquist so he thought he might as well opt for the direct approach. ‘The body of a young
woman answering Analise’s description was found near the castle road first thing this morning. The pathologist thinks she
died last night between eight o’clock and eleven.’

Suzie Crest’s eyes widened for a second then her hand went to her mouth. There was something rather theatrical about the gesture
and Wesley’s instincts told him that she was merely going through the motions of shock.

‘Have you a photo of Analise by any chance?’ Wesley asked.

Suzie Crest stood up and hurried from the room. She looked cool, as if they had asked to see her driving licence after a speeding
offence. Wesley thought the lack of any emotional response rather odd. In her absence Gerry knelt down to play with the baby,
helping him put the shapes into the appropriate holes. Wesley watched with a smile on his face. There were many young DCs
in Tradmouth CID who’d be very surprised to learn that Gerry Heffernan had a soft side. The child clearly enjoyed the attention
for he held his chubby little arms up to the DCI but as he did so his mother returned carrying a blue-and-white photograph
folder, and sat down, ignoring her child who was now watching her with a slightly puzzled look on his little face.

Suzie took the photographs out and sorted through them before selecting a couple and handing them to Wesley. ‘These were taken
just before Christmas. This is Analise with Alexander.’

Wesley studied the pictures. The last time he had seen this lovely face it had been twisted and cyanosed in the agony of
death, but he could still recognise her. In the pictures she was smiling and holding the baby on her knee and the contrast
with that naked, mutilated corpse made Wesley feel slightly sick. He handed the photos to Gerry who regarded them solemnly
and nodded.

‘I’m afraid this is our dead girl, Mrs Crest. No doubt about it. I’m sorry.’

Suzie inclined her head, acknowledging the sympathy she probably knew she didn’t merit.

‘We’ll need to contact her family,’ Wesley said quietly. ‘I presume you have an address for them?’

‘The agency will have it. Hands Across the Sea – they’re in Morbay. I’ve got their card somewhere.’ She stood up again and
rushed from the room. This time Gerry made no attempt to play with the baby: he had other things on his mind – like how do
you tell parents that their daughter’s just been killed and butchered in a foreign land?

When Suzie returned Wesley took charge of the agency’s card, putting it carefully in the inside pocket of his jacket. Then
he glanced at Gerry who gave him a small nod. It was up to him to start the questioning.

‘What can you tell us about Analise, Mrs Crest?’

Suzie Crest shrugged her shoulders. ‘She was like most of these girls, I suppose. No initiative. Had to be told what to do
– what to feed Alexander and when. And I had to make her a timetable of when I expected the housework to be done or she’d
have sat reading magazines and talking to her friends on the phone all day. I’ve had these foreign girls before. They’re more
interested in boys and sneaking out to meet their friends than hard work.’

‘Did she have a boyfriend?’

Suzie shrugged. ‘If she had, he certainly never called
here … not that we encourage that sort of thing, of course.’

‘What did she do on her evenings off ?’

Suzie thought for a few moments. ‘Analise never said where she was going unless I asked her.’

‘And you asked her last night?’

‘She told me she was meeting Kristina but I suppose she might have been meeting a man instead. Some people tell you what they
think you want to hear, don’t they?’

‘Do you know Kristina?’

‘I know of her but I’ve never met her. She’s with a family in Stoke Beeching.’

‘So you contacted her when Analise didn’t come home?’

Suzie nodded. ‘I called her first thing this morning when I saw Analise’s bed hadn’t been slept in. I didn’t have her number
but I remember Analise saying she worked for a family called Barlow. I got their number from the book.’

‘What did Kristina say?’

‘Just that she’d seen Analise last night, but she’d left the pub early to meet someone – a man, Kristina said. But she didn’t
know his name or where he lived.’

Gerry stood up. ‘We’ll need to speak to your husband.’

‘He won’t be able to tell you anything,’ Suzie said quickly.

‘You say you’re out a lot. If your husband and Analise were in the house together she might have talked to him … told
him more than she told you.’

‘I don’t know what you’re implying, Inspector.’ She was prickling now, as if he’d hit a raw nerve.

‘Nothing whatsoever, Mrs Crest. We’d like to talk to your husband, that’s all. Just routine.’

‘Of course,’ said Suzie as though she’d just realised she had overreacted.

They took their leave and began to make their way back to the police station. At least it was downhill this time.

‘What did you think?’ Wesley asked as soon as they had shut the Crests’ front gate.

‘I wouldn’t like to work for that cow, Wes. I wonder why Analise stuck it for so long. Maybe when we meet Mr Crest, we’ll
find out.’

Wesley grinned. ‘Bit of a cliché, isn’t it, Gerry? Husband knocking off the au pair?’

‘They say clichés only become clichés ’cause they have a grain of truth in them.’

Wesley couldn’t really argue with that. As they walked on in amicable silence, he tried to forget that he had to face Analise’s
post mortem later that afternoon. And then the even worse task of informing her family.

It seemed to Rachel Tracey that Kristina Haken was quite happy with her lot.

The au pair greeted her with a smile and a baby on each arm and led her into an untidy playroom where a woman in jeans and
baggy T-shirt was cleaning paint off a toddler’s hands. The woman looked up and smiled as Rachel entered and introduced herself
as Jane Barlow, the children’s mother. She suggested that Kristina take Rachel into the living room and asked if they’d like
a cup of tea.

Rachel answered yes. She’d love some tea. At least it would give her something to do with her hands. Wesley had just called
to confirm that the dead girl was indeed Analise Sonquist and now it was up to her to break the news to her friend and find
out everything she could. Kristina led the way into the large living room and she looked nervous as Rachel sat down to face
her.

‘I’m afraid I have some bad news,’ Rachel began. ‘I believe you know Analise Sonquist. She works as an au pair in Tradmouth.’

Kristina nodded warily.

‘I’m very sorry but I’m afraid Analise was found dead this morning.’

The colour drained from Kristina’s already pale face. ‘Dead? How?’

‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ Rachel said. ‘You knew her well?’

Kristina shrugged her thin shoulders. ‘I knew her.’

‘Did you see her often?’

She hesitated. ‘We usually meet on Tuesdays … and when she wants me to do something for her.’

Rachel had expected expressions of shock, pious platitudes and maybe even tears and she was surprised at the iciness of Kristina’s
words. It was almost as though the news of Analise’s death hadn’t shocked her very much; almost as though it had been half
expected. She leaned forward. ‘What do you mean?’

Kristina glanced at the door. Perhaps, Rachel thought, the relationship between Kristina and Jane wasn’t quite as sunny as
she’d first assumed. Perhaps there were secrets Kristina didn’t want her employer to know about.

‘Jane works on three days in the week and when she is out Analise brings Alexander here and I look after him. He is a nice
baby – very good – so I do not mind.’

‘So what did Analise do while you looked after Alexander?’

Another shrug.

‘Didn’t you ask her?’

‘She was meeting a man, I suppose.’

‘You saw her last night?’

‘We met in the Tradmouth Arms. Two other girls were there – Solange and Pilar. They’re au pairs with the same agency and we
usually meet up every week. Analise only stayed an hour – maybe less. It is the same every week. She was impatient to leave.
She had a hot date.’

‘Who with?’

‘She didn’t say … but it was probably the same man she meets when she leaves Alexander with me. We used to meet for lunch
sometimes but now I only see her when she wants me to look after Alexander,’ she said with a note of bitterness. Kristina
was no fool: she knew that she’d been used.

‘Could anyone have followed her from the pub?’

Kristina shrugged. ‘It was very crowded. People were coming and going all the time. If anyone followed her out, I wouldn’t
have noticed.’

‘What was her relationship with Mr Crest, the man she worked for? Could he be the man she was meeting?’

Kristina gave a knowing smile. ‘She said he tried to get her into bed. He was … frustrated, she said. Then it changed.
She thought he had got himself a girlfriend.’

‘So who was the man she met?’

Kristina shook her head. ‘It wasn’t Mr Crest, I’m certain of that. Analise said once that her man was an artist. Mr Crest,
I do not think he is an artist.’

Rachel gave the girl an encouraging smile. At last she was getting somewhere.

‘Did she mention this artist’s name or where he lived or …?’

‘No.’ She thought for a moment. ‘But she said she had met him because of Mrs Crest.’

‘Did Mrs Crest introduce them?’

Rachel could tell that Kristina was becoming impatient with the questioning. ‘You have not told me how Analise died. Was it
an accident?’

Rachel braced herself to impart the bad news. ‘I’m afraid Analise was murdered.’ She saw the girl’s hand go up to her mouth.
For the first time she was showing emotion over her former friend’s death. ‘That’s why we need to ask all these questions
and why you need to tell us everything you know.’

‘I have told you everything I know. I wondered if this man might be married and that is why Analise did not tell me very much
about him.’

Somewhere across the hall a baby began to cry and then the other followed suit. With the twins, a toddler and sometimes Alexander
to look after, Kristina must have had her work cut out. No wonder she resented Analise’s presumption. The only mystery, Rachel
thought, was why she hadn’t told Analise to get lost. She decided to ask her.

Before Kristina answered, she glanced at the door. Jane was taking her time with the tea but then she had three young children
on her hands.

‘I look after Alexander because I feel sorry for him,’ said Kristina. ‘Analise told me that his mother does not care for him.
He is a nice baby. I like babies.’

Rachel, who had always kept her distance where babies were concerned, nodded as though she understood.

‘So you really can’t tell me any more about the man Analise was seeing?’

‘She said he was a great artist, that is all.’

Rachel smiled, trying to hide her disappointment. He might have been a great artist but he might also have been the man who ended Analise Sonquist’s life.

*

Wesley sat at his desk staring at the model of Anubis, holding it this way and that so that he could get a better look through
its veil of protective plastic. He examined the thing with its little jackal’s head and its man’s body, wondering when Neil
Watson would get back to him. He had left a message on his voicemail for him to call but that was half an hour ago.

He picked up the phone and tried again and this time he was in luck.

‘Neil. I’ve been trying to call you.’

‘Likewise.’

‘Pam said something about four murders. What’s it about? I take it you’re in Exeter at the moment?’

‘No. I’m up at a place called Varley Castle. Ever heard of it?’

‘What are you doing there?’

‘The last owner’s niece has just inherited and she’s giving it to the National Trust. She called me in to give her some advice.’
Wesley thought he sounded rather pleased with himself. It’s always good to be wanted.

‘Advice?’

‘There’s a big Egyptian collection here. She thought the Archaeological Unit would be the place to go to but I’ve had to confess
it’s not really my field. A bloke from the British Museum’s come up to have a look at the stuff.’

Wesley’s heart began to beat a little faster. ‘Is he there? Can I talk to him?’

There was a moment’s silence on the other end of the line. ‘Andy’s not here at the moment but I’m expecting him any time now.
Why do you want to speak to him?’

Wesley wondered how much he should reveal. But he knew Neil would continue to ask questions until his curiosity was satisfied.
And besides, he had a feeling he might need his
help on this one. ‘There’s been a murder down here and an Egyptian artefact was left at the scene. Can you come down to Tradmouth
and bring this Andy with you?’