Page 104 of Her Last Walk Home

‘She went off without her coat. Left it behind. Her prick of a date seemed to disappear, probably hooked up with someone else, and she just upped and left. I noticed the coat on the back of a chair and brought it in here. I was sure she’d be back the next day to claim it. But she didn’t appear and I forgot all about it until I saw the photo. Beautiful girl. My wife would kill me if she heard me. Now where is it?’

‘Why didn’t you report it to us at the time?’

‘It was just a coat left behind in the pub after a boozy night. Sure you’d be knee-deep in shite for a year if I reported them all.’

‘True.’ Boyd got the point when he saw the stack of coats and jackets, jumpers and cardigans piled high on the floor at the back of the storage room.

‘It’s here somewhere. Probably down at the bottom. We used to send this stuff to charity shops, but it’s not been done for ages.’

‘How can you remember her coat after so long?’

‘It was unusual. Red, with a white furry thing around the hood. A bit like Santa Claus. Ah, here we are.’ As he hauled out a red coat, the pile toppled over. ‘Fuck. Now I will have to do something about them.’

Boyd took the coat. It was made of shiny red material, like a raincoat. The white fur trim was stained where it met the zipper. Possibly from make-up or fake tan. He patted the pockets.

‘There’s something in here.’ He extracted a phone. Samsung. Older model. It was dead when he pressed the on button, obviously, after a year in storage. And it might not even be Aneta’s. He checked the rest of the coat. A few torn tissues in the other pocket. A tear on the elbow. Nothing else of note.

‘Thanks, Andrew. I’ll take it with me.’

‘I’m sorry now that I didn’t do more at the time, but we’re so busy all year round. Not enough hours in the day. You know yourself. How was I to know she’d end up dead?’

‘I don’t suppose you remember who she was with?’

‘God, no. Probably just some dick who didn’t care enough about her.’

Poor girl, Boyd thought. No one seemed to have cared about her.

‘Any CCTV from back then?’ he asked hopefully, but that hope was dashed when Andrew stared back at him.

‘You’re joking, right? Not a hope in hell. We wipe it weekly.’

‘Would you be agreeable to look at photos to see if anything jogs your memory?’ Boyd had no idea what photos he was even talking about. Maybe John Morgan, Gordon Collins or Greg Plunkett. The workmen from Pine Grove, perhaps.

‘Sure, but I honestly don’t recall him.’

‘Do you remember anything else from that night?’

‘It was jammers. I only remembered her because she was beautiful and because of the coat.’

Boyd got a refuse sack from Andrew and bundled the coat into it. It might yield nothing. Then again, it might be a critical clue. His shoulders drooped as he left. A suitcase, a box, a Santa coat and a phone. All that remained of Aneta Kobza’s life. No one had cared enough about her. Now it was his job to care.

75

Boyd sent the phone up to Gary in technical, who began searching for a charger to fit it.

‘Do you think it’s Aneta’s phone?’ Lottie asked.

‘It was in the coat pocket.’ Boyd held up the red coat. ‘It’s well worn, and cheap. It looks like something she’d wear, don’t you think?’

‘Maybe. But anyone could have owned that coat. Is this Andrew guy to be believed? Could he have something to do with her disappearance?’

‘I doubt it. He was being helpful.’

‘He was only helpful after her photo was released.’

‘No, Lottie, he was genuine. But I can do a quick check if you like.’

‘Don’t waste time on him if it’s unnecessary. I’ll get the super to release a statement. This guy Aneta was with might come forward.’

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