The Cadaver Game by Kate Ellis Page A

Trencham.’
    ‘Then you think wrong. Tessa’s abroad. She’s in France.’
    ‘Did she tell you she was going?’
    ‘No. Sylvia told me. Sylvia Cartland.’
    ‘And you think she was telling you the truth?’
    Suddenly Heckerty seemed a little unsure of himself. Rachel repeated the question.
    ‘Well, Sylvia has been known to take liberties with the truth if it suits her purposes but … surely someone’s identified the
     dead woman.’
    Normally Rachel would tread carefully at this stage but Carl Heckerty didn’t look the type to upset easily. ‘She’d been there
     a week, so the body isn’t in a condition to be easily identifiable by a friend or relative. We’re pinning our hopes on dental
     records but … Who else would have been staying at Tessa’s house?’
    He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Ask Sylvia. She worked with Tessa. She saw her every day.’
    ‘When did you last see her?’
    ‘Must be about three or four months ago. I called into the Craft Centre. She’d asked if she could give my name as a reference
     for the house in St Marks Road, so I thought I’d pop over and see her.’
    ‘When did she leave your employment?’
    ‘In February. She went into business with Sylvia. She’d made jewellery as a hobby for ages but she decided to give it a go
     full-time.’
    ‘And what did she do here?’
    ‘Admin. Accounts. That sort of thing. She moved down to Devon about eighteen months ago. She’d had somehigh-powered job in London and she felt she was burning out. She liked it down here. Good for my soul, she used to say. Not
     that admin and accounts is exactly spiritually enriching, but at least it wasn’t as pressured as what she’d been used to in
     London. She was good at her job and I hoped she’d stay longer but she was always the creative type, I suppose. She felt she
     had to give the artistic stuff a try.’
    ‘Do you know why she was going to France?’
    ‘Sylvia said it was to get inspiration for more jewellery designs but, between you and me, I thought she might have met a
     bloke. Not that she’d have told Sylvia. She’s got a temper, has Sylvia, and she takes things personally, and you can’t do
     that when you’re in business.’
    ‘Would she have gone in her car?’
    ‘Probably.’
    ‘Could she have come back without you or Sylvia knowing?’
    ‘Anything’s possible.’ His expression suddenly became serious. ‘Do you really think it’s her?’
    ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out. Is there anything else you can tell me about Tessa? Has she ever been married?’
    ‘She married very young and got divorced years ago – I never knew her husband; couldn’t even tell you his name.’
    ‘Any kids?’
    ‘She’d had a son when she was in her teens. I think he stayed with his dad but she never talked about him. He’ll be grown
     up now, I suppose.’
    ‘What about the men in her life?’
    ‘There have been a few of them while I’ve known her. Mostly losers.’
    ‘Names?’
    ‘Sorry. She didn’t go on about her love life like some women do,’ he said, scratching his nose.
    Something in the way he said the words told Rachel he might be lying. ‘What was your relationship with her?’
    ‘We kept it platonic. Best way if you’re working together.’
    Rachel felt the blood rise to her cheeks. ‘You don’t have a photograph of her by any chance?’
    She wasn’t expecting a positive answer, so she was surprised when he opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a
     file. He emptied the contents onto his desk; a dozen or so snaps, mainly taken at some distant celebration – Christmas judging
     by the festive headgear.
    He slid one of the pictures across the desk to her. ‘That’s Tessa,’ he said, pointing at a dark-haired woman who, even though
     she was probably approaching her middle years, still looked slim and vivacious.
    ‘She really hated having her picture taken – had quite a phobia about it for some reason – but I sneaked this one