In Plain Sight

by In Plain Sight (epub)

  She stared. ‘In the middle of an investigation? You’re not serious?’

  ‘I mean it, Clare. I looked at your diary on the portal. You’ve blocked tonight out. Something on?’

  She had almost forgotten about it. Dinner with Geoffrey’s sister. ‘No, it’s okay. I’ll cancel it. Abi Mitchell takes priority.’

  Tony rose to his feet. ‘I’m not asking you, Clare. I’m telling you. You’re way over your hours, even for a major investigation. Chrissake – you were supposed to be on holiday on Sunday and you were here till God knows when. And back again early the next morning. Take the night off to do whatever it was you had planned and be back in the morning. You’ll be all the better for a break.’

  Clare left her office, deep in thought. What the hell was Tony playing at? Since when had he cared about anyone except himself? She saw Chris looking at her and walked across.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked.

  ‘Tony’s just given me the night off.’

  ‘Eh? He had a bump on the head?’

  ‘Don’t ask me. Look, Chris, there’s something I should be doing tonight. I wasn’t going to but since he’s making a fuss about me being over my hours, I might as well.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have to ask me twice.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. But if I do go home, will you promise me you’ll keep in touch? Let me know if anything happens? Anything at all?’

  ‘Sure. Anyway, we need to give it a few hours. Someone will know where Paul Sinclair is. We just have to sit it out.’

  * * *

  Clare had dressed quickly, erring on the side of caution with her choice of a navy woollen dress from Boden. She was so used to spending her working days in trouser suits then coming home to change into dog-walking clothes that she felt strange – unlike herself. She sat down at her dressing table and inspected her hair. There was no time to do anything with it so it would just have to do. She pulled a hairbrush through it quickly and gave it a shake. Then she peered in the mirror and applied a quick coat of mascara and some lipstick. A distant peeping announced Geoffrey’s arrival. She pulled on a pair of high-heeled boots, grabbed her coat and handbag, and stepped out into the night. She opened the car door then turned back.

  ‘Hold on,’ she called, feeling in her bag for the front door key. ‘Forgotten something.’

  She ran back into the cottage, to Benjy’s misplaced delight, and scooped up a bunch of chrysanthemums from the bathroom sink. Giving Benjy a last quick rub behind the ears, she locked the door behind her and climbed into the car.

  Geoffrey leaned over and kissed her on the lips. He waited while she fastened her seat belt then reversed out of her drive. He glanced at the flowers. ‘You shouldn’t have bothered, Clare. It’s only dinner.’

  He was right. It was only dinner. Should she really be out for a meal when Abi was God knows where? It had been a rush, too. A detour via the florist, abandoning the car on double yellow lines because she couldn’t find a space; then home to give Benjy a ten-minute walk. A cold shower because her boiler, while now in situ, still wasn’t connected and she didn’t have time to wait for the immersion to heat the water. And now she was sitting in Geoffrey’s car in these unfamiliar clothes, fretting about a missing baby. And for what? Some dinner she could have rearranged?

  ‘I can’t come empty-handed,’ she said.

  Geoffrey took one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze hers. ‘It’s only Nicola and another couple of friends.’ He turned the car away from St Andrews and drove in the direction of Strathkinness, a small village to the west of the town.

  ‘Remind me of her husband’s name again,’ Clare said.

  ‘Ollie. You’ll like Ollie. He’s a good chap.’

  ‘And the others? You said another couple of friends?’

  ‘I think Nicola said she’d invited the Daventrys. Nice couple.’

  They were approaching the crossroads now and he turned right, slowing as he reached the twenty-miles-per-hour sign at Strathkinness. He drove slowly up the hill, navigating the speed bumps, and crested the rise at the top of the village. Beneath them lay the Eden Estuary and to the west the busy village of Guardbridge. Clare couldn’t help thinking of Abi Mitchell, being bundled from a pizza delivery bag into a car by Paul Sinclair – to be taken God knows where. She wondered if the Dundee cops had found him yet.

  ‘Clare?’ Geoffrey was saying.

  She turned to look at him. ‘Sorry – I was just… What did you say?’

  He took her hand again and squeezed it. ‘I was asking how you managed to get the night off.’

  ‘Oh, my boss. He said to go.’

  ‘Really? The one you said was bone idle?’

  She nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s him. Something about checking my hours and noticing I was over the maximum.’

  ‘That’s good, then. He’s obviously looking after your welfare.’

  ‘Pfft. That’ll be a first,’ she said. ‘He’s never bothered before. Lately, he’s been more interested in the promotion he’s applying for than finding our missing baby.’

  ‘Ah, that explains it.’ They were in Guardbridge now and Geoffrey indicated right at the roundabout.

  Clare wondered if this was the route Abi had been taken on, after being transferred from the motorbike. ‘Explains what?’

  ‘If he’s up for promotion. Obviously I don’t know how the police do things but, these days, there’s a drive to consult staff when someone is considered for promotion. See how well respected they are. Your Tony’s probably covering his backside. Making sure you’ll say nice things about him.’

  Clare turned to Geoffrey and stared. ‘Seriously? Is that what they do now?’

  He shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

  She nodded. ‘That explains it. He’d looked in my diary. I reckon he was looking for an opportunity to send me home. I had blocked tonight out so…’

  ‘Well, I’m not complaining. I can’t wait for you to meet Nicola and Ollie.’

  They were passing Railway Pizzas now. Clare looked at it as they drove by. It was busy with early evening customers. One of the motorbikes was being revved by a rider, a full bag of pizzas on the back. Clare felt sick at the thought of Abi being zipped into one of these bags. She opened her mouth to tell Geoffrey to turn back and then closed it again.

  As they approached the bridge that would take them across the River Tay and into Dundee, he said, ‘We’re out for the night now, Clare. You might as well relax.’

  Clare looked at him. ‘Geoff, I’ve a missing baby to find. One that could be seriously ill by now.’ She swallowed, then said, ‘Sorry. It’s just this baby case. It’s hard to switch off from it.’

  He sighed. ‘Do you want me to take you back?’

  They were crossing the bridge now. The sun was setting over the river, casting an orange glow across the clouds which had begun to gather. Ahead, to the north, lay the city of Dundee, set out on the slopes of the iconic Law Hill. It was dark to the north and she could see the street lamps beginning to come to life across the city. On the bridge the lamp posts on the central walkway flicked past like fireflies. And just off to the left she could see the distinctive shape of the V&A Gallery looming up, the multicoloured lights of Slessor Gardens drawing nearer.

  ‘No, it’s fine. We’re nearly there now.’ The tension in the car was palpable and she thought she’d better make an effort. ‘So, tell me about everyone. What do they all do?’

  The car came to a halt at traffic lights and he turned, giving her a smile. ‘Well, Nicola, as you know, is a journalist. Travel writing, mainly. Does bits for the local press and the odd bit in the Guardian.’

  ‘And Ollie?’

  ‘He’s a careers officer at the university. His office is quite close to mine so we often have lunch together.’

  ‘Sounds like a nice job.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s been doing it for years. Keeps saying he wants a change but he never shows any real signs of shifting.’

  ‘And the others – what did you say their nam
es were?’

  They were driving along the Perth Road now, passing restaurants, the university tower building on the right. The street became narrower, with tall tenement buildings close to the road on either side. The ground-floor properties were mainly given over to takeaways and small shops. Clare took it all in with a studied eye as they drove along. They reached a junction and Geoffrey turned right, away from the shops, and began weaving through a maze of residential streets.

  ‘The Daventrys,’ he was saying. ‘Beth and Leo. Beth’s a psychologist at the university here and Leo’s a graphic designer.’

  Clare’s palms were starting to feel damp. Why did they all have to be so bloody marvellous? She wiped her hands on her coat. ‘Goodness. They do sound a clever bunch.’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ Geoffrey said. ‘They’re just people. And not half as clever as you.’

  Clare’s thoughts drifted back to Abi and she did a quick calculation. It was fifty-five hours now since she had been taken and they were no further forward with the investigation. ‘I wouldn’t bet on it.’

  * * *

  Nicola and Ollie Steedman lived in a semi-detached Victorian house just off Dundee’s Perth Road. A wrought-iron gate opened onto a tiled path, bordered on either side by small shrubs and herbs, spilling over onto the tiles. A light behind the stained glass in the front door cast a warm and inviting glow. Geoffrey rang the bell and immediately opened the door, walking in ahead of Clare.

  ‘Hello?’ he called.

  ‘Don’t they lock the door?’ Clare whispered, and he just laughed.

  A tall, slender woman, hair cut into a sleek dark bob, appeared from a door, smiling broadly.

  ‘Geoff,’ she said, embracing him warmly. ‘Great to see you.’ Then she looked at Clare. ‘And you must be Clare. Lovely to meet you at last. Come in and I’ll introduce you to everyone.’

  Clare held out the chrysanthemums and realised immediately they were wrong. They had been the best of a poor selection in the florist’s and now she saw that the bright purple daisies were out of place. Gaudy and vulgar. Nicola took them, saying how lovely they were, and ushered Clare into a large dining kitchen. It was a colourful room with an assortment of kitchen units, painted in a deep blue, set off with oak worktops. A collection of black and white photos of Nicola and what Clare presumed were celebs decorated one wall, with prints by the Scottish Colourists on another. A long green trug filled with pots of herbs sat on a recessed windowsill and, next to it, was a gaily painted jug filled with sunflowers. At the far end of the room was a conservatory extension with a collection of easy chairs facing out to the garden. In the centre of the room three people sat at a scrubbed refectory table, chatting and laughing. The hubbub died down as Clare entered and three pairs of eyes turned to take her in.

  A man with sandy hair rose to greet them. ‘Hi, Geoff. And this must be Clare. I’m Ollie.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ Clare said, turning her cheek to allow him to kiss her. She was surprised when he kissed the other cheek too. It was a clumsy exchange and she felt her face redden.

  ‘Come and sit down.’

  The other couple waved at Clare but didn’t rise from their seats. Geoffrey introduced Beth and Leo and Clare smiled. Ollie relieved her of her coat and instantly she became aware that she was overdressed. Nicola was in jeans and a black T-shirt, a pair of Birkenstocks on her otherwise bare feet. Beth was even more casually dressed in a pair of dark green harem pants, a faded sweatshirt and what seemed to be very holey trainers.

  Ollie pressed a glass of wine into Clare’s hand.

  ‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Geoff,’ Nicola said, her tone reproving, ‘I thought you were going to drive tonight?’

  ‘It’s not that,’ Clare said. ‘Work. I may have to go back.’

  ‘Clare’s a police officer,’ Geoffrey said. ‘Detective Inspector.’

  There was a short pause, then Beth Daventry said, ‘Goodness. How peculiar.’

  Clare settled herself on a chair with Leo on one side and Geoffrey on the other.

  The wine was flowing and there seemed to be little happening in the way of food. Eventually, Nicola produced a dish of flatbreads and a bowl of dip.

  ‘Baba ganoush,’ she said. ‘Aubergines, you know.’ Her comment was directed at Clare.

  Clare pressed her lips together. She did know but she wasn’t about to rise to the bait.

  ‘So tell us, Clare,’ Leo said. ‘Is it fun being a police officer?’

  Clare had the distinct impression that she was the entertainment for the evening. ‘It can be at times. Other times less so. Like any job, I suppose.’

  ‘Clare’s working on the missing baby case,’ Geoffrey said.

  She flashed him a look.

  Nicola picked up a bottle of red and topped up glasses around the table. ‘Oh, how awful, Clare. Have you not found her yet?’

  Were they genuinely curious or were they just taking the piss? She decided to give them the benefit of the doubt. ‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss it.’

  ‘Oh,’ Beth said. ‘What, not at all?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Top secret, then.’ The corners of Beth’s mouth were turned up. Just a bit. Clare decided she really was taking the piss.

  ‘Confidential,’ she said.

  Beth took a slug of her wine but said no more.

  The empty dip bowl was removed, and an assortment of odd plates and cutlery handed out. Ollie opened another bottle of red and Nicola bore a large casserole dish to the table.

  ‘Watch, it’s hot,’ she warned them.

  ‘Fish cobbler?’ Geoffrey asked.

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Mm. My favourite.’ He gave Clare an encouraging smile. ‘Can I serve you?’

  Clare held out her plate and Geoffrey loaded it with fish and a savoury scone.

  ‘Veggies,’ Nicola announced, putting a dish of mixed greens down on the table.

  The conversation turned to Beth’s latest project at work. ‘I’m researching Seasonal Affective Disorder and whether it afflicts babies under twelve months.’

  Babies. Clare’s thoughts drifted back to Abi. She wondered if the Dundee officers had tracked down Paul Sinclair yet. Or would he be lying low, knowing he’d been identified?

  ‘…before you joined the police?’

  Clare looked up. ‘Sorry?’

  Geoffrey touched her hand, lightly. ‘Leo was asking—’

  ‘I wondered what you had done before joining the police. What’s your degree in?’

  Clare stared at him. Was it compulsory to have a university degree these days? ‘I didn’t go to university.’

  Leo looked surprised. ‘Oh.’

  ‘What, not at all?’ Beth said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, what did you do after school?’

  ‘I joined the police.’

  Even Nicola, doing her best to be a good hostess, couldn’t contain herself. ‘You joined the police straight from school?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘But why?’ Beth blurted out. ‘Did you not want to see a bit of the world first? Have some fun?’

  ‘What would be the point? If I already knew what I wanted to do?’

  Geoffrey squeezed her knee under the table. ‘What you lot can’t understand is that Clare is a square peg in a square hole.’

  Clare wasn’t sure about that. Did she want to be a square peg?

  ‘She knew what she wanted and she went for it,’ he continued. ‘Isn’t that better than farting around for years at university?’

  Beth raised an eyebrow. ‘If you say so, darling.’

  Clare rose. ‘Could I just…’

  Nicola smiled. ‘Down the hall – the door facing you at the end.’

  In the peace of the small downstairs loo, Clare sat on the seat and took out her phone. She swiped to Messages and sent a quick text to Jude.

  I’m at the dinner party from hell.

  Could you phone in half an hour and
pretend to be work?

  I need an excuse to leave.

  She sent the message and a few minutes later Jude replied with a thumbs-up. Clare flushed the loo, washed her hands and returned to the party.

  Nicola greeted her with a broad smile. ‘I’ve been telling them off for being such a bunch of bastards. The trouble with us is we’re not used to meeting people who are not like us.’

  Clare knew Nicola’s words were kindly meant but what the fuck did not like us mean?

  ‘Not at all,’ she said, smiling. ‘Of course, it doesn’t help that our thoughts are controlled by microchips in our brains. They do it at police college, you know.’

  The joke fell flat but Clare was prevented from further embarrassment by her phone ringing. Jude was a bit quick off the mark. It was barely five minutes since she’d texted.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said, taking the phone out of her bag. She glanced at the display: Chris. An uneasy feeling began to form in the pit of her stomach. She rose and moved to the corner of the room.

  The others watched, Beth still glugging on her wine.

  ‘Chris. What’s going on?’

  ‘Sorry, Clare,’ Chris said. ‘We need you out.’

  Chapter 18

  They drove back in near silence, the roads quieter now.

  As they approached St Andrews, Geoffrey said, ‘Shall I drop you at home so you can pick up your car?’

  ‘No, station please. I’ll get a lift home later.’

  ‘Want me to let Benjy out for a pee?’

  ‘If you would. I’d – well, I’d be grateful. I’m sorry about tonight…’

  He stared straight ahead, focusing on the road, which was wet from a recent shower of rain. ‘It’s fine. Can’t be helped.’

  They fell silent again.

  Clare said, ‘Nicola’s nice.’

  ‘Yes, she is. They all are. You just need to give them a chance.’

  Clare wanted to say that they hadn’t given her much of a chance but now wasn’t the time. ‘I’m sorry.’

  At the station, she climbed out of the car. ‘Spare key’s in the box at the front door.’

  ‘Combination?’