by Val McDermid
Another shrug. ‘She’d sometimes say if she was going to a movie or the football with Torin or something like that. Or if there was something on the telly she was looking forward to. But it wasn’t like she’d routinely tell me what she was planning on doing. To be perfectly honest, it’s always full on in here. You have to concentrate. It’s not like being on a factory production line, where you can chat about all sorts while you work. Here, if we screw up, people get more sick. Sometimes they can die. So we don’t go in for much casual chit-chat.’
‘Do you know if she was seeing anybody?’
‘If she was, none of us knew anything about it. Look, you live with Dr Blessing. You must know what it’s like. A hospital is a rumour factory. And this place is gossip central.’
‘I thought you didn’t have time for chit-chat?’ Paula took the sting out of the barb with a teasing tone and a knowing smile.
‘Not when we’re dispensing. But at the counter, when they drop off and pick up, that’s where all the info passes back and forth. And I haven’t heard a whisper about Bev seeing anyone. After the divorce, she went out with a couple of blokes, but both times she felt like it was going nowhere so she knocked it on the head. She’s been on her own for a couple of years now, as far as anybody here knows.’ All at once it seemed he was protesting too much.
‘And you? You went for a drink with Bob the porter? Did you see Bev later?’
Dan became very interested in the contents of the shelves next to him. ‘Actually, in the end I didn’t go. I wasn’t in the mood. I went for a drink on my own on the way home.’
‘Do you remember where?’
‘The Bertie.’
‘You mean the Prince Albert?’ Paula knew the place. It was a busy barn of a pub on the edge of the city centre, always packed because of its cheap beer.
He nodded. ‘That’s the one.’
‘Not exactly a place for a quiet drink.’
He made a face. ‘Nobody bothers you, it’s too rammed for people to strike up casual conversations. I like it when I want to be alone in a crowd.’
And nobody remembers whether you were there or not. Another avenue closed off. ‘Had Bev fallen out with anybody that you know of? Any colleagues? Other staff? Patients? Somebody outside of work.’
Dan looked blank. ‘She never said anything. I mean, we all get into a bit of a ruck at the counter from time to time. The punters aren’t always sweet reason on a stick. But Bev’s generally pretty good at calming things down. She doesn’t provoke people.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Not like me. I’m not good at taking their crap. Sometimes I just walk away, and that’s when Bev steps up to the plate and pours oil on the troubled waters.’
‘So, no boyfriend, no enemies. Did she seem at all uneasy lately? Rattled, frightened?’
Again he scratched his beard. ‘Not her style. Bev’s not a scaredy cat. I’d say the only thing she’d be scared of would be something happening to Torin. And nothing’s happened to him, has it? Not from what you were saying.’
Apart from mislaying his mother. ‘If I’d said to you last night that Bev would go missing, is there any part of you that would have thought, “Yeah, that makes sense”.’
Without hesitation, Dan shook his head. ‘No. Bev’s totally reliable, totally organised. If she was going to do a runner, she’d do it in such a way that nobody would notice it was a runner until she was history.’
Paula could think of nothing more to ask Dan. Though she had a feeling there might be more later. She stood up and fished her card out of her pocket. ‘Text me Vahni Bhat’s number, would you? And let me know if anything occurs to you. Anything unusual, or anything Bev said. We’re treating this seriously, Dan.’
‘OK. Tell Torin we’re thinking of him.’
That would be the easy part, Paula thought, checking her watch. She’d sent a pair of DCs to Nadia Wilkowa’s flat, promising to join them there. Unless Nadia had lived in a monastic cell with no possessions, they’d still be there, poking through her underwear drawer and kitchen cupboards. Which gave her a small window of opportunity to conclude some more unorthodox arrangements.
She sent a quick text to Elinor, asking for five minutes in the fifth-floor coffee shop that she knew was near the wards where her partner would be dealing with post-op patients from the morning. Paula was halfway through a mug of hot chocolate when Elinor appeared, businesslike in white coat and stethoscope. Time had done nothing to diminish the physical jolt of pleasure Paula still felt whenever they were reunited. Even if only a few hours had passed. It was crazy, it was adolescent, but she didn’t care. When she’d met Elinor, her life hadn’t held much joy. Now, the reason for getting up in the morning overwhelmed any argument on that score.
Elinor made straight for Paula’s table, missing out a visit to the coffee counter. She leaned over and kissed her on the lips as she sat down. ‘Not that it isn’t always a delight to see you, but I genuinely only have five minutes,’ she said.
Paula held up both hands in a gesture of apology. ‘Sorry. I’m tight for time too. But it’s important.’
‘Give me the ten second version.’ Elinor reached for the mug and took a swig, shivering with pleasure. ‘Sugar rush, I love it.’
‘Torin McAndrew reported his mother missing this morning. She’s not in work, nobody’s heard from her and —’
‘Bev’s missing?’ Elinor interrupted.
‘Apparently.’
‘But she wouldn’t leave Torin. Paula, something serious must have happened. Have you checked the hospitals?’
‘First thing I did. And the custody records. She’s not been in an accident and she’s not been arrested. Believe me, I’m taking an interest.’
Elinor clapped her hand over her mouth. She knew only too well the sort of cases Paula generally ended up dealing with. Anyone would be horrified at the thought of a friend ending up at the heart of one of those. ‘What can I do?’
‘Who’s her best mate?’
‘Probably Dan.’ Elinor answered without hesitation. ‘He’s straight, but he’s so camp he might as well be a gay man. There was a moment a couple of years ago where it nearly spilled over into more than just good friends. But they both backed off. She didn’t want to risk his marriage and really, neither did he.’
‘Was it mutual, the backing off?’
Elinor paused, thinking. ‘To the best of my recollection. I’ve been in their company a few times since and I didn’t sense any awkwardness between them.’ She gave Paula a sceptical look. ‘You’re not thinking Dan’s got anything to do with Bev going missing, are you?’
‘I’m not going to apologise for covering all the bases, Elinor. But there’s something a lot more pressing than what kind of guy Dan is. Here’s the thing. I can’t leave Torin home alone. I know he stayed there last night without Bev, but he didn’t really believe she’d be out all night. He doesn’t have any family near at hand. And I don’t want social services taking him into emergency care.’
‘You want him to come and stay at ours?’
Paula couldn’t help smiling. ‘This is why I love you,’ she said. ‘You have such a generous heart.’
‘Obviously. I chose you.’ Elinor tapped Paula’s hand with a finger. ‘How do we do this?’
‘He’s going to text me after school. Can I send him over here? Can you find him a quiet corner where he can do his homework till you’re ready to leave? I don’t want him going to a friend’s house and letting slip that his mum’s disappeared and he’s staying with a couple of big old lezzas he hardly knows.’
Elinor thought for a moment. ‘Sure, I’ll come up with something. And you? What about you? When will you be home?’
Paula sighed and shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. We caught a murder this morning. We’ve barely got started.’
‘Just as well I’m an easy-going soul,’ Elinor said.
‘I know. Sometimes I think I behave like the worst of my male colleagues. I’m sorry.’
‘The difference is, yo
u know you’re doing it. And I get to stake out the moral high ground.’ Elinor grinned. ‘It’s OK, Paula. We both pay the price of caring about what we do. I’d love you less if you took your job less seriously. What’s the new boss like?’
‘Too soon to know. But she’s not Carol Jordan, that’s for sure.’
‘That’s not exactly informative.’
Paula picked up her bag. ‘Later. You have patients, I have my back to cover.’ She stood up, put a hand on Elinor’s shoulder and kissed the top of her head. ‘I’ll send Torin over. See you when I see you.’
15
The rain had sloped out of a steel sky all day, relentless and depressing. He’d noticed it only intermittently, there being no window in his eyeline at work. Rain would have been a nuisance when he’d been waiting for the last two. There hadn’t been anywhere unobtrusive to shelter. But this time, there was no problem. On the other side of the street from Tellit Communications HQ was a row of fast-food outlets. Subway, McDonald’s, an indie café that promised the best roast in Bradfield. As if. He’d started off in McDonald’s with a cheeseburger and made it last half an hour. Next, he stretched a chocolate chip cookie and a Diet Coke to forty minutes. Where the hell was the woman? Didn’t she have a home to go to?
The irony of that last thought forced him to stifle a giggle. The home he was planning for her was very different from the one she’d be going back to tonight. If she played her cards right, if she made him happy, she could have a new life as well as a new home. If not, she could pay someone else’s debt and join the others. His first one and the one before that, the one who should have been his one and only. Of course, he knew he might not need this latest one. But chance had dropped her in his path and he wasn’t a man who failed to answer when opportunity knocked. He had a feeling the one he had now wasn’t going to measure up and it was as well to be prepared for that eventuality.
He crumpled his napkin into a ball and stood up, about to move on to the café when he spotted her, tripping down the hallway from the bank of lifts. She crossed the foyer with an unexpected spring in her step. Most people dragged themselves wearily out of the office after a long day, but this one had a bounce to her. That was what had caught his eye in the first place, before he even registered she was a perfect fit. She looked like someone who was heading towards something worth waiting for. He made a point of storing that lustrous image away in his memory. That was what she’d have to replicate for him, if she was going to have any chance of survival.
She paused on the threshold, opening a folding umbrella. He pushed through the customers to the door, eyes fixed on his target, heedless of the complaints of the ones who’d been in his way. They were irrelevant. All that mattered was keeping her in view. By the time he made it on to the street, she was halfway to the corner. He moved a little faster, closing the gap, but careful not to get too close. He pulled his beanie hat further down over his forehead, tucked his chin into his scarf and checked the glasses with their clear lenses were still in place. It was amazing how much difference small things made to a man’s appearance. People noticed the externals, not the essentials. Not that he was planning on doing anything that would get him noticed. But there were closed-circuit cameras everywhere in the city centre. He wasn’t taking any chances.
She turned left at the end of the street, into the early evening bustle of Bellwether Square. Again, he speeded up, not wanting to lose her in the crowd. She wasn’t tall and he worried that he might lose sight of her. It wouldn’t wreck his plans, not in the long term. But it would be an inconvenience and he hated inconvenience. He needed to find out where she lived and he didn’t want to waste another evening on something so basic.
She veered off to where the tramlines formed one side of the square and walked up the ramp to a tram stop, closing her umbrella as she gained the shelter of the canopy. He hung back until she’d chosen her spot on the platform, then daringly walked right up behind her. She didn’t even glance at him as he approached, head down against the weather. It amazed him how these women walked in the world with no understanding of the threats that were everywhere. Sometimes he felt he radiated power as tangible as the heat rising from a log fire. How could they be oblivious to him? Dogs bared their teeth at him, cats hissed when he held out his fingers towards them. But women were so out of tune with their environment, they just didn’t pay attention.
She’d pay attention to him soon enough, he promised himself that.
Now he was so close he could distinguish each blonde hair on her head. Sufficiently close to tell that she was a natural. No tell-tale roots here, which was as it should be. If he’d been betrayed by the thinnest line of brown, he’d have walked away. Because he was only interested in perfect matches. He wasn’t some kind of inadequate who would settle for second best. He’d been deprived of what was rightfully his, but that didn’t mean anything would do.
The tram glided into sight, the rain making its blue-and-claret livery gleam under the street lights and restaurant neon of the square. She’d chosen her spot perfectly, right opposite one of the opening doors. He stepped in behind her. She turned left, he turned right and slipped on to a jump seat where he could see her but she couldn’t see him unless she turned her head. He sighed in satisfaction. Soon he’d know everything he needed to.
She didn’t have a clue.
Marie Mather congratulated herself on getting a seat on the tram. She’d spent just over eleven hours inside Tellit Communications. For a first day, she reckoned that showed more than willing. It would probably be gone seven by the time she got in. But unlike most working women, she wouldn’t be dashing home to put dinner on the table. Marie was lucky enough to be married to a man whose Italian mother had compensated for her lack of daughters by teaching Marco everything she knew about cooking. He mostly worked from home these days, designing furniture for an online retailer, so Marie came home to freshly prepared dinners that made her feel cherished every time.
It would be something special tonight, she was certain of that. Perhaps Marco would have splashed out on a leg of lamb or a steak. Or maybe even a truffle to grate over a risotto or a pasta dish. Her mouth was watering at the thought.
She spent the twenty-minute tram ride turning over the day’s encounters in her mind. All in all, not a bad start to a new job. She knew she was there to shake things up and already she could see possibilities for change. But Marie had no plans to rush into anything. She’d feel her way in gently, get under the skin of the organisation and then start a quiet revolution that would leave them reeling. Oh yes, she had plans for Tellit.
The tram drew into the terminus, its electric motor making a sound like a soft moan of contentment. There were only a handful of travellers left on the tram, bunching together by the doors till the tram came to a smooth halt. And then she was off down the platform, heels clattering on the concrete. The rain had finally stopped, she realised as she reached street level. The air still felt thick with damp, but there was no need for an umbrella now.
Marie hurried down the street, her mind on her job, her sense of self-preservation entirely asleep. Then, struck by a sudden desire to finish the evening with a box of chocolates in front of the TV as she passed the newsagent on the corner, she wheeled round to return and almost cannoned into a man who was only a few feet behind her, his head down and shoulders hunched against the cold. Her heart leapt in shock. She’d had no notion anyone was that close.
He barged past her without a word and she was surprised by her relief when she entered the shop. Silly woman, she chided herself as she left a few minutes later, reassured by the empty street and the box of Ferrero Rocher tucked into her bag. Nothing more than a typical bad-mannered city encounter; what could be more normal than that?
She rounded the corner into the street where she and Marco lived, completely unaware that the man she’d almost bumped into was standing in the shadow of the house on the opposite corner, taking very careful note of Marie’s destination and wondering how man
y more times she’d be walking through her own front door.
16
Of course there wasn’t a legal parking space in the Minster Canal Basin. Cursing, Paula slotted the car into a disabled slot and propped a sign saying ‘police’ on the dashboard. It went against the grain, but then so did getting soaked to the skin on semi-official business. She consoled herself with the thought that not many disabled people would fancy negotiating the cobbles of the canal basin in monsoon conditions.
As she headed for Tony’s floating home, she wondered fleetingly whether she should have phoned ahead. He didn’t exactly have a vibrant social life, but it wasn’t unusual for him to take long walks through the city. They were, he’d told her, a cross between sociological observation and thinking time. ‘Watch and learn, that’s what psychologists need to do,’ he’d said in an uncharacteristically frank exchange about the way he approached his work. ‘And then you have to apply what you’ve learned to what you observe.’
‘You’re better at it than most,’ Paula had commented.
‘It’s not rocket science. It’s mostly common sense mixed up with a bit of compassion and empathy. You could do it, you know.’
She’d laughed. But he’d continued, absolutely serious. ‘You’re already doing it. I’ve watched you interviewing witnesses and suspects. You might not know the theory, but your practice stands comparison with most of the clinical psychologists I’ve seen in action. Maybe you should think about applying to the national faculty and training to be a police profiler.’
‘No way,’ she’d said. ‘I get my buzz from being on the front line. I don’t want to be a backroom person like you.’
He’d shrugged. ‘Your choice. But when you do get to the point where you’ve had enough of the grind of procedure and the pettiness of the top brass, it’s an option.’
What Tony had suffered in the course of his work cast a bitter light on the conversation now. Paula had seen the destruction at first hand, and she was grateful that she had routine and procedure to cling on to among the wreckage. She wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing by coming here, but her instincts, both professional and personal, had led her inevitably to his door. Or hatchway, she supposed you’d have to call it. At least it wasn’t a late call. Shortly before seven, Fielding had sent the team home. ‘There’s no budget for overtime and until we’ve got something back from the lab and the CCTV, you’re all just spinning your wheels.’ Paula had been stunned. Overtime had never been an issue on her old squad. They got on and did what had to be done when they were in the thick of it. The theory was that they’d take it easier in the quiet spells. Only there never had been any quiet spells.
