May found herself drawn to the story as well which was about the murder of teenage girl, a girl blind from birth. The main detective was a methodical and morally superior Superintendent. From what Bradbury had told her, Hastings had become obsessed with the Souljacker case during his time on the force. It had proved to be the major case he never solved, and there was an obvious parallel to the girl in his novel. She wondered if writing the book was cathartic for Hastings, if the success of his fictional hero in finding the killer alleviated his own perceived failings. She closed the book halfway through, surprised how engrossed she had become with the case.
Jack Bradbury stopped her as she left the office.
‘I thought you’d want to know. Sandra Vernon called. Apparently your friend Michael Lambert paid her a visit earlier on today.’
‘How long ago?’ asked May.
‘A few minutes. She called as soon as he’d left. She wasn’t very happy. He claimed he was a friend of Terrence Haydon and had called around to pay his respects.’
‘True in a way, I suppose. Did she have anything else to add?’
‘That he was asking some odd questions. In particular about Terrence’s father.’
‘What did he want exactly?’
‘She sounded a bit pissed,’ said Bradbury. ‘Lambert wanted to know the man’s address. Vernon didn’t pass on the details.’
Although she didn’t consider him a serious suspect, May had placed Lambert’s picture on the incident board next to Klatzky’s. She’d warned him not to start his own investigation but knew he would still get involved. Procedurally it would be difficult to officially get him working on the case, though it would definitely be beneficial. ‘You saw Terrence’s father yesterday?’ she asked Bradbury.
Bradbury nodded. She remembered his report. The man lived alone in a council estate in Weston-super-Mare. Sad figure by all accounts. He hadn’t seen his son in over twenty years. ‘Okay, I’ll have another word with him today.’
‘What, Lambert?’
May crossed her arms. ‘Yes, Lambert. Is there anything else?’
‘No, ma’am,’ replied Bradbury. With a brief flash of the puppy dog eyes, he turned away.
The hospital was less than a mile from the Central Police Station so she decided to walk. As she left the building, she thought she saw a figure from her past. She rubbed her eyes, as the figure disappeared around a corner, and retrieved a pair of sunglasses from her bag.
May had arranged to meet Siobhan Callahan at the hospital. Callahan worked as an Occupational Therapist. She’d been one of the students on the fifth floor of the halls of residence during the period when Billy Nolan’s body was discovered eighteen years ago.
She’d also been Michael Lambert’s girlfriend.
May uncovered her following a thorough reading of the student statements. She couldn’t believe her luck when she’d discovered the woman worked less than a mile from her office.
The extended heatwave still gripped the city, the late September sky a cloudless blue. May trekked up the hill which led to the hospital and searched for Callaghan’s department on the noticeboard in the main foyer. She followed the green line which led to the occupational therapy department. She recalled her own time at University, and the boyfriends she’d had there. She didn’t know how she would have reacted if someone wanted to talk to her about any of them. She rarely dwelled on the past, couldn’t relate to the wide-eyed girl she’d been in her early twenties. She viewed her past like a voyeur, her memories akin to a reader imagining a character from a book.
Siobhan Callaghan was not what she’d expected. May had pictured a stereotypical Irish girl, buxom and red-haired. The woman in front of her had short, spikey black hair, and a thin wiry body. Her face had a boyish quality to it.
‘Oh yes, Inspector. Sorry, I’ve been rushed off my feet today. Please come on through.’ She led her through to a small white cubicle, with a desk, two plastic chairs and an elevated bed. Like the rest of the hospital, the small area had a clean antiseptic smell. ‘Please take a seat. Sorry, I didn’t quite get the gist of your call earlier. You mentioned something about that incident at the University all those years ago.’
‘Yes, thank you for seeing me at such short notice,’ said May. ‘You’ve read about the recent murder in Southville?’
‘Yes. Ghastly. I thought about poor Billy when I read it. You think it’s the same person? It’s what the papers think, isn’t it?’
May studied the woman. She sounded genuine, and nothing about her body language suggested otherwise. ‘I can’t comment on that. We’re speaking to everyone who was in halls on the night Billy Nolan’s body was discovered. I read your statement from that time.’
Callaghan struggled to keep eye contact with May. Her eyes darted upwards, as if replaying that night in her head. ‘I was asleep when all the commotion happened, thank God. I never saw him. Christ, am I thankful for that. I can imagine it really fucked most people up. Oh, sorry, excuse my language.’
May waved her hand dismissing the apology.
‘This one girl, Laura, she could barely speak. Her whole body was shaking. I remember putting my arm around her. She buzzed. It’s the only word I can use to describe it. It was like touching someone who’d had an electric shock. Her parents collected her the day after. I never saw her again. I’d known her for three years at University and that was that.’
‘It says on your file you had a boyfriend at the time?’
Callahan shifted in her chair. ‘Michael,’ she said, a slight lilt to her voice.
‘Yes, Michael…Lambert,’ said May, pretending to glance at her notes.
‘Poor guy,’ said Siobhan. ‘He was the one who found Billy. Broke down his door. Have you spoken to him about it?’
May nodded.
Siobhan’s eyes widened. ‘Oh.’ She took a deep breath. ‘He was a bit like Laura to begin with, and then he went silent. He was close to Billy, you know.’
‘Yes, what was he like?’
‘Billy or Michael?’
‘Michael.’
A brightness overcame Siobhan’s face, the memory clearly a fond one. ‘He was a sweet guy. What can I say, we were young. It was quite intense.’
‘Were you going out with him for long?’
‘Six, seven months.’
‘Was it a monogamous relationship?’
‘As far as I’m aware. Why all these questions about Michael?’
‘The most recent victim, he was also at University with you.’
‘What?’ said Siobhan, the colour vanishing from her face. ‘Michael wasn’t the victim, was he?’
‘No, no. Sorry, Siobhan. I didn’t mean to confuse you. The
