Tony Hill u Carol Jordan 08 - Cross and Burn

good?

25

    A quick pass through Nadia Wilkowa’s Facebook page had indentified the two friends in her memo-board photos as Ashley Marr and Anya Burba. Anya was a teaching assistant in a primary school in Todmorden, a twenty-minute drive from Bradfield. Ashley was closer, a receptionist in a GP-run health centre in Harriestown, a ten-minute walk from Nadia’s flat. Fielding decided Ashley would be their first target. The head receptionist wasn’t thrilled when they asked to interview her, but Fielding made it clear she wasn’t going to argue the toss. With a great deal of emphatic breathing, the receptionist showed them into a tiny room with four chairs and a table. ‘It looks more suited to a poker school than anything medical,’ Paula muttered as the woman left them alone so she could fetch Ashley.
    ‘Let’s hope Ms Marr doesn’t have a poker face,’ Fielding said. ‘Right then, McIntyre, let’s see what you’re made of. You lead off on the interview.’
    Paula was gratified at Fielding’s confidence in her. But there was no opportunity for her to say so. Ashley Marr stuck her head round the door, looking more confused than worried. ‘Are you the police? Are you sure you’ve got the right person?’
    There was no mistaking the woman in the photo. Ashley looked in her mid-twenties. She had a round, cheerful face framed with a mop of auburn hair. Her large green eyes were widely spaced and coupled with a neat little nose and a small mouth, they gave her the look of a happy kitten. Her black jeans and pink jumper were both tight, as if she’d put on a few pounds since she’d bought them. Paula gave her a welcoming smile. Best to keep things relaxed and informal till they got the young woman settled, then hit her with the bad news. ‘Come in, Ashley. I’m Paula McIntyre and this is Alex Fielding. We’re police detectives here in Bradfield. Have a seat, please.’ Paula waved her to the chair furthest from the door and sat down at right angles to her.
    Ashley perched on the edge of the chair. ‘I don’t understand. I haven’t done anything. What’s all this about? Do I need a lawyer? They always ask for a lawyer on the telly.’
    Paula inwardly cursed the ubiquitous inaccuracies of TV drama. ‘You really don’t need a lawyer. It’s nothing you’ve done, Ashley. We need to talk to you about one of your friends.’ From her bag, she produced a copy of one of the photos from Nadia’s kitchen. She pointed to Nadia. ‘Do you recognise this person?’
    Ashley looked scared. ‘It’s Nad. My mate, Nad. Nadia. What’s happened to her? Why are you here?’
    ‘I’m afraid I’ve got some very sad news, Ashley.’ Paula reached across the angle of the table and put a hand over hers. ‘Nadia’s dead.’
    The colour drained from Ashley’s cheeks, making her pale freckles distinct as a rash. Her hands flew to the sides of her head and she looked stunned. ‘I don’t believe it. Not Nad. You must have made a mistake. It’s her mum that’s got cancer, not her.’
    ‘There’s no mistake, Ashley. I’m very sorry. I know this is a terrible time for you, but we really need your help.’
    ‘Can we get you a cup of tea or a drink of water?’ Fielding leaned forward and for a moment, Paula could see that she’d be the kind of mother you could rely on.
    Ashley shook her head. ‘What happened? How can she be dead? She’s in Poland, she texted me only the other day, saying the weather was crap where she was and how she was looking forward to coming home.’ Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘She never texted me on Monday, is that when she died?’ Paula felt Fielding’s quick glance at her. The squatters had returned on Tuesday morning to find Nadia’s body in their living room. It looked as if the killer saw no need to pretend Nadia was alive after he’d murdered her. He simply wanted to prevent anyone raising the alarm while she was still with him.
    ‘We think someone took Nadia,’ Paula said. ‘He kept her prisoner. And then he killed her.’
    ‘In Poland?’
    ‘We think she never left Bradfield,’ Paula said.
    ‘But she texted me. She said she had to go home at short notice because her mum had cancer and she thought she was going to die. I said to Skype me when she got there but she said she couldn’t because her mum didn’t have internet access. So we texted.’ She pulled her phone out. ‘Look, I’ll show you.’
    ‘That’s really helpful, Ashley. And we’ll need a copy of those