‘Who told you that?’ she said.
‘Can you help us?’
Shirelle pinched her lip with her fingers. Rachel wondered what the problem was, why would she hesitate? ‘Shirelle?’
‘Victor,’ Shirelle said, ‘Victor and Lydia.’
‘Do you know surnames?’
‘Victor Tosin and Lydia Oluwaseyi.’
‘And what was your relationship to them?’ Rachel said.
Another pause. ‘I went out with Victor for a bit.’
‘When was this?’
‘Last Christmas. Just a few weeks.’
‘I am sorry,’ Rachel said, ‘this must be an awful shock.’
Shirelle flinched, her face sharpening, as though the sympathy angered her.
‘Can you tell me what the relationship was between Victor and Lydia?’
‘They were together,’ Shirelle said.
‘A couple?’
Shirelle nodded. She was picking strands of tobacco off her clothes, placing them in the paper, trying again.
‘So, was that a problem – you going out with Victor?’
‘I suppose,’ she said. ‘That’s why we stopped.’
‘Whose call?’
Shirelle took a drag on her rollie before answering, ‘Mine.’
‘How come?’ Rachel said.
‘What does that matter?’
‘I’m trying to get as much information as I can about Victor and Lydia to help us work out what’s happened.’
‘Lydia didn’t like it and I didn’t want to share,’ she said.
Could this be a motive? Had something erupted between Shirelle and Lydia or Lydia and Victor? The triangle imploding in violence?
‘Do you know why Victor and Lydia would have been at the warehouse?’ Rachel said.
‘They were squatting there.’
‘Do you know their previous address?’
Shirelle shook her head. ‘They’re illegals.’
‘Immigrants?’ Rachel checked.
‘Yeah.’
‘Where from?’
‘Nigeria,’ she said. Slowly she rolled the cigarette paper, brought it to her lips and licked the gummed edge. Her hand steady until she used her lighter.
‘Were they selling drugs?’ Rachel said.
‘No.’ She glanced at Rachel then away. ‘Couldn’t they get out?’ she said. ‘Was it the smoke?’
‘We’re trying to establish exactly what happened but it appears they were killed,’ Rachel said, watching her carefully. ‘They were shot.’
A flare of surprise darted through Shirelle’s eyes and her mouth dropped open. She composed herself quickly, dragging on her smoke, recrossing her legs, but it was enough to convince Rachel that although Shirelle was definitely hiding something, she had not known about the murders.
‘Why would anyone want to kill them?’ Shirelle said, her voice fraying. ‘That’s crazy.’ She sucked in her cheeks, a frown etched on her forehead.
‘Either of them been in any bother? Fights, feuds?’ Rachel said.
‘No.’
Shirelle’s phone rang, a polyphonic burst of music, a snatch of vocals and heavy bass. She froze.