Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

golf.’
    ‘Where did you stay in St Andrews?’
    ‘I can’t remember the name of it now. Some hotel that overlooked the sea.’
    The Scores, thought Gilchrist, an address for a number of hotels with sea vistas.
    ‘And after Kelly left St Andrews,’ Stan said, ‘when did you next see her?’
    ‘We didn’t.’
    Gilchrist leaned forward, almost pushed Stan away from the phone. ‘Then how do you know she went to Mexico?’ he asked.
    ‘She flew there. Straight from St Andrews.’
    Flying straight from St Andrews to Mexico was not possible, of course. But a flight from Edinburgh or Glasgow could connect to anywhere in the world. The rationale puzzled him. Kelly was killed in St Andrews. So where and how did Mexico fit in? It made no sense.
    ‘When we reported Kelly missing, the Sheriff ’s Office checked the flight manifesto and confirmed she’d been on it.’
    Kelly had been on it? A flight to Mexico?
Gilchrist frowned. What was he missing? ‘But you never saw her again,’ he said. ‘How do you know she actually stayed in Mexico?’
    ‘She sent us a postcard from Mexico City.’
    Gilchrist leaned closer, lips almost at the phone. ‘Let me make sure I understand,’ he said. ‘Kelly sent a postcard from Mexico saying she had flown there from St Andrews?’
    ‘No. The one from Mexico said she would be home in a month.’ On the end of the line, she stalled. ‘That was the last Tom and I heard from her,’ she breathed.
    The one from Mexico
? ‘Did Kelly send you another postcard from somewhere else?’ he asked.
    ‘She sent one from St Andrews saying she was flying to Mexico.’
    ‘Did she always send you postcards?’
    ‘No. She usually wrote on an airmail letter. One of those lightweight blue envelopes that no one uses any more.’
    ‘So how many postcards did she send you?’
    ‘Only two.’
    Gilchrist scowled at the phone. Had the postcards been written by the person who murdered her? That would explain the change in writing material. Was it as simple as that? A thought struck him. Perhaps a mother might have held on to the last keepsake from her missing daughter . . .
    ‘Do you still have the postcards?’
    ‘No.’
    Gilchrist felt himself deflate. With today’s advancement in forensic science, what might he have been able to recover from—
    ‘Saratoga County Sheriff ’s Office has them.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘And the letters.’
    Gilchrist almost punched the air. ‘All of them?’
    ‘Not all of them. I didn’t give them every one.’
    Gilchrist pulled himself upright. He took a deep breath. Something was still not right. Surely a mother would have recognized her own daughter’s handwriting. Unless . . .
    ‘How were the postcards written?’ he asked.
    ‘They were typed, not written.’
    ‘Did Kelly sign her name?’
    ‘She did, but it wasn’t her normal signature.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘She hurt her hand and couldn’t hold a pen. She said so in the postcards. I didn’t think anything of it. Should I have? Have you . . . have you . . .
found
her?’
    Stan returned Gilchrist’s gaze, and Gilchrist shook his head. This was not the kind of news to drop on someone over the phone. He tried to keep his voice level. ‘Mrs Roberts,’ he began, ‘we are trying to identify the remains of a young woman found in a cemetery on the outskirts of St Andrews. If Kelly had flown to Mexico, the remains are unlikely to belong to her.’
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘For completeness of our records,’ he rushed on, ‘would you have any objection to giving a sample for DNA analysis? I could arrange for someone from your local police to visit you at home and take a sample. Just a mouth swab. Some saliva would do. Just to be sure.’
    ‘I’m . . . I’m . . .’
    ‘It would really help us with our enquiries,’ he pressed.
    ‘Well, if it will help, then I don’t see why not.’
    ‘Thank you, Mrs Roberts. You’ve been extremely helpful. And I’m sorry to hear of Kelly’s disappearance.’
    ‘Thank you, Mr . . . ?’
    ‘Gilchrist.’
    ‘Gilchrist?’ She repeated his name twice more, then said, ‘Thank you, Mr Gilchrist.’
    From the muffled sounds on the phone, Gilchrist knew she was crying. ‘Our lives were never the same after Kelly disappeared,’ she said. ‘I’m sure if Kelly had been around, Tom would still be alive. He lost something when she disappeared. We both did.’
    Stan sat tight-lipped, scratching his pen on his notepad.
    Gilchrist felt his own lips tighten. If Mrs