‘Suppose so.’
‘Well, of you go.’
West rang the bell and waited. She rang again, rapped the door knocker like an irate courier, then stepped back and glanced at the upstairs windows, as if it might hasten a response.
‘He’s out,’ she said, slamming the car door.
‘You don’t say.’
‘Shall we go?’
‘No, no. We’ll wait a while,’ said Munro.
‘Looks a bit odd, doesn’t it?’
‘What does?’
‘This,’ said West. ‘You and me, sitting in a car, doing nothing.’
‘What would you like to do?’
‘I don’t know, maybe we should be, I don’t know. God, we could be here for hours. Nothing to drink, no food. We could starve to death…’
‘Something troubling you, Charlie?’ said Munro. ‘You appear to be, irritated, and I find that somewhat, irritating. Is there a problem?’
‘No. Sorry,’ said West, ‘just hungry, that’s all. Starving, in fact. Blood sugar must be low, plus, I’m due in a day or… oh, God, too much information, sorry.’
Munro, chest heaving as he chuckled silently in his seat, reached in his pocket and pulled out a bar of Kendal Mint Cake.
‘Here,’ he said, ‘eat this. I always keep one handy, just in case I’m caught short, too. It’s got so much sugar in it, you’ll be on the ceiling for a week.’
‘Thanks,’ said West, stuffing her face. ‘It’s disgusting. Do you think we’ll be here much longer?’
‘No. I’d say about, oh, a minute, or thereabouts.’
‘A minute? Very funny, what makes you…’
‘Because, if I’m not mistaken, this is the chappie we’ve been waiting for.’
Delgado, struggling with a large, blank canvas clamped beneath one arm and a holdall in the other, ambled towards them. Attired, as he was, in a black pea-coat with a flat cap perched on the back of his head and a cigarette dangling from his lips, he looked more like a Catalan docker than an artist.
‘He,’ said West, lowering her voice as if divulging some tawdry piece of illicit information, ‘is unnaturally good-looking.’
Munro shook his head and tutted.
‘What?’ she said. ‘Look, if he’s innocent, I’m not going to let that go to waste… I may give him a… shit, he’s seen us.’
Delgado smiled through the windscreen as he approached the gate. Munro acknowledged the greeting with a polite nod of the head.
‘That’s torn it,’ said West, ‘what do we do now? He knows…’
‘He knows nothing, lassie. Probably thinks we’re bailiffs, or Immigration, or, God forbid, in the throes of a clandestine affair.’
Munro craned his neck and watched intently as Delgado dropped his holdall to the floor, fumbled in his pocket and retrieved a set of keys.
‘Have you heard of a Mati?’ he said, drawing a breath as he flicked the ignition.
‘A what? No.’
‘I’ll explain later, but you can cancel any plans you have concerning our friend, here. If I’m not mistaken, he won’t be dating anyone for a very long time.’
‘What are you talking about?’ said West. ‘Honestly, sometimes… I thought the whole point of us coming here was to speak to…’
‘It was, but that was then. We’ll come back in a while.’
‘I don’t follow. Why not now? We’re only going to…’
‘Because,’ said Munro, ‘we might need some help. I’ve a terrible feeling this Delgado chappie is more involved than we thought.’
* * *
‘Guv,’ said Cole, impatiently, as West and Munro returned to the office. ‘I’ve been trying to call you; we’ve got a…’
‘Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, will you calm yourself,’ said Munro. ‘What is it? Have you won the lottery?’
‘No.’
‘Have you found yourself a girlfriend?’
‘Er, no.’
‘Then first things first. Remove coat, boil kettle, make tea. Oh, and I’ll take a biscuit, if we have any. Then, we can sit down and have a chat while Charlie, here, has forty winks. She’s frail from hunger, the poor thing.’
West smiled as Cole hurriedly brewed a couple of mugs, split a packet of Cheddars in two and plonked them on their respective desks. Munro sighed.
‘There’s an art to making tea, Tommy, it requires time and patience, qualities, I fear, you’re lacking in spades. Now, what is it?’
‘We’ve got another…’
‘Yes, yes, I gathered that. Another what?’
‘Missing person,’ said Cole.
Munro turned to the window, bit into a biscuit and took a slurp of scalding tea.
‘Carry on like this, and we’ll soon be twinned with El Salvador. Who is it this time? Teen? Male? Female?’
‘Woman, late twenties…’
‘Do we have a name?’
Cole checked his notes.
‘Miss Hannah Lawson,’ he said.
‘How long?’
‘Two days.’
‘Och, she’s not missing,’ said Munro. ‘She’s lost.’
‘I know Guv, but they say it’s…’
‘They?’
‘Her boss, where she works, library on Vestry…’
‘Is she on our patch?’
‘Yes, Guv, Cowley Road,’ said Cole.
‘Okay,’ said Munro, ‘if we must. Nip downstairs, send a couple of constables round, tell them to do the usual, see if anyone’s home, check with the neighbours, get a statement from her employers, then get straight back, you’re coming with us, in civvies, if you please. Chop, chop.’
* * *
Halstead Road was experiencing a minor resurgence in activity as the first tranche of school kids, gorging on bags of chips and family-sized packs of Doritos, slowly made their way home. Sergeant Cole, having parked half a dozen car lengths behind Munro, shook his head despondently as he watched them amble by. His radio crackled.
‘Guv,’ he said, into his collar.
‘Tommy, we’re going to have a word with this Delgado fellow, now. Once we’re done, we’ll be away around the corner but you’re to wait, understand? When he goes out, you’re to follow, discreetly mind, on foot. He’ll not be driving. Got that?’
‘Guv.’
West looked scornfully at Munro.
‘What?’
‘You do realise I’m losing weight because of you?’ she said.
‘It’s not me,’ said Munro. ‘It’s all that raw fish you eat. It’s not healthy.’
Delgado, thought West, looked even more alluring out of his coat. Her eyes fluttered as he opened the door wearing just a white, sleeveless vest and jeans.
‘Hello again,’ he said, snapping through an apple.
‘Again?’ said West, smiling coyly.
‘You were outside earlier, sitting in the car.’
‘Oh, that. We were… we were just…’
‘Plucking up the courage to come in?’ said Delgado, with a grin. ‘You needn’t have waited, you know, I don’t bite, especially when there’s an attractive lady involved.’
‘Good grief,’ said Munro, waving his warrant card. ‘Any more lines like that and I shall jettison my breakfast all over your door. Police officers. May we?’
Delgado stepped aside, winked at West and ushered them in with a theatrical wave of the arm.
‘Detective Inspector Munro, and this is Detective Sergeant West.’
‘Really? And does D.S. West have a first name?’
‘Desperate,’ said Munro. ‘Now, a wee word, if we may, it’s about Harry Farns…’
‘Harry? What’s up?’
‘He’s not been seen for a few days; some folk are concerned for his… safety.’
‘Wouldn’t worry about that,’ said Delgado. ‘Harry often disappears for a day or two. He’s probably fleecing some rich, divorcée on the Côte d’Azur, as we speak.’
‘Is that so? And why would he disappear like that? Is he one for travelli
ng?’
‘Good Lord, no,’ said Delgado. ‘He likes his home comforts too much. He’s prone to bouts of depression, that’s all, nothing too serious. Been like that ever since he lost Annabel. Goes away to clear his head, that sort of thing.’
‘And he always comes back?’
‘Well, obviously,’ said Delgado.
‘Indulge me, would you?’ said Munro. ‘D.S. West, here, has something to show you.’
‘Best offer I’ve had all day.’
‘You’re making my skin crawl, laddie.’
West, cheeks flushing, swiped her phone and showed Delgado the shot of Harry.
‘Do you recognise these people?’ she said, sternly, trying to sound officious.
‘Well, of course, gosh, that was taken a while back, wasn’t it?’
‘I’m waiting,’ said West.
‘Sorry, it’s Harry and Annabel.’
‘Annabel?’ said Munro.
‘Sure, his wife.’
‘It’s not Aileen?’
‘Aileen?’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Munro. ‘Tell me, if Harry was going away, to clear his head, so to speak, is there anyone he may call, to let them know?’
‘Ooh, no, not really,’ said Delgado. ‘Harry isn’t big on friends. Oh, Sam, maybe. He might have called Sam.’
‘Sam?’
‘Sammy. Samantha, thick as thieves, those two.’
‘Would this be Samantha Baker?’ said Munro.
‘One and the same. If you ask me, he should’ve married her instead, opposites and all that.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Just an opinion, nothing against Annabel, she was absolutely delightful, cute, little thing but very, intense. Serious. Enjoyed flirting, though.’
‘Flirting? That sounds a little out of character, wouldn’t you say?’ said West.
‘Maybe. Maybe it was just me, but it always seemed like, given half the chance…’
‘Nothing wrong with your ego, is there, Mr. Delgado?’
‘Well, if you got it, Sergeant.’
‘This Samantha Baker,’ said Munro. ‘Know her well, do you?’
‘In a way, not that we’ve ever met, but Harry’s always banging on about her, I think it would do him good, you know, if he and she… I mean, it’s been a while since Annabel… new beginnings and all that.’
‘And Annabel,’ said Munro. ‘Do you recall the last time you saw her?’
‘Blimey, eons. Just before they got married, I think, so that would be a good couple of months before she… you know.’
‘And you didnae go to the wedding? Not best man, or…’
‘No, wasn’t asked, they slipped away and did it quietly, just came back and said “surprise, we’re married”.’
‘And that didn’t strike you as odd?’ said Munro.
‘Not really,’ said Delgado. ‘For a start, Harry can be a bit, impulsive, plus, the way I see it, there’s only two reasons people get married that quickly, one is love, and the other involves a shotgun. Neither of them owns a firearm, and I don’t think she was pregnant, so…’
‘And Harry’s parents, do you…’
‘Nah. I only see them if Harry’s there and he invites me over. Apart from that…’
‘Okay, well, that should do for now. Oh, just one thing, did Harry ever mention anyone called Mati?’
‘You mean, like, Matthew?’
‘Aye, maybe, but spelt m-a-t-i.’
‘That’s not a name, Inspector, it’s a symbol, a sort of, charm.’
‘Is it, indeed?’ said Munro, as if genuinely surprised. ‘Well, well, well. I think we’ve taken up enough of your time Mr. Delgado, if you hear anything, don’t be afraid to give us a wee call.’
‘I will,’ said Delgado, grinning at West. ‘And you, can call me, anytime.’
‘Well, we didn’t get much out of that, did we?’ groaned West, as her eyes caught sight of the blackboard outside The Nightingale.
‘Oh, I’d say you got quite a lot out of it, Charlie, quite a lot, indeed. Worry not, the seeds, as they say, have been sown.’
‘Working with a bloody farmer, now,’ said West. ‘Cumberland sausage and mash.’
‘What’s that?’ said Munro.
‘Sausage and mash, or homemade lasagne. We could nip in for a quick…’
‘No, no, Tommy will be calling soon enough, trust me. Besides, I thought you’d become a fan of The Duke, why would you not want to eat there?’
‘Oh, no reason. Let’s just say the staff are, over-rated.’
A steady stream of early evening regulars, comprising cabbies and after-workers too raw from their commute to face the tedium of home, flowed into the pub. West, bored, tired and hungry, swiped her phone for the umpteenth time and whined like a six-year-old about to throw a tantrum.
‘For God’s sake,’ she said. ‘One hour and fourteen minutes, we’ve been here. One hour, fourteen minutes. So much for Delgado going out, Sergeant Cole’s probably fallen asleep, I’m dying of thirst and my bum hurts. I have to stretch my legs, I’m getting cramp, I might just wander over…’
‘Haud yer wheesht, lassie,’ said Munro.
‘What? Haud yer, what?’
‘Stop blethering,’ said Munro, retrieving his mobile. ‘It’s Tommy. Tommy?’
‘Guv, he left a couple of minutes ago. I’ve followed him and this is, well, it’s a bit weird, to be honest.’
‘What is, Tommy? For goodness sake…’
‘Well, he’s not gone far,’ said Cole. ‘In fact, he’s in a house on Cowley Road. The house where that girl lives, the one reported missing earlier, from the library.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Dead sure, I’m right outside.’
‘Hold tight, Tommy,’ said Munro, firing up the engine. ‘Do not let him out of your sight, we’ll be there in 30 seconds.’
Lights off, Munro eased the car along Cowley Road until he spotted Cole loitering beneath a lamp post, looking, to all intents and purposes, like a prospective burglar.
‘Couldn’t be less obvious if he was wearing camouflage. Right,’ he said, turning to West. ‘Charlie, two things, wait here and keep the engine running. I’ll take Tommy with me, in case he gets a bit, you know. Second, here’s my phone, find the number for a Doctor Jackie Banham…’
‘Doctor?’ said West. ‘Are you…?’
‘She’s used to talking to people with, criminal tendencies. Ask her if she wouldn’t mind coming in. Something tells me she could prove, somewhat, invaluable.’
‘I don’t get it; why would you ask a…’
‘Okay, Charlie, remember I mentioned the Mati?’
‘Yes…’
‘It’s a symbol, I’ll not go into detail, suffice to say, Delgado has one on his keychain.’
‘So?’
‘The photographs of Harry, the ones we found on the phone? The same key chain was lying on the bed.’
‘You think…’
‘Maybe. Lock the doors.’
‘My, my, this is a surprise,’ said Delgado, still wearing his coat and hat. ‘Didn’t expect to see you again, quite so soon, Inspector.’
‘No, I’m sure not,’ said Munro. ‘And I didn’t realise you were into property, Mr. Delgado, how many houses do you own in the area?’
Delgado laughed politely.
‘Very good, Inspector,’ he said. ‘But one mortgage is enough for me.’
‘Then perhaps you could tell me what, exactly, you’re doing here?’
‘Of course, come in, come in. I’m what you might call, house sitting, sort of.’
‘Sort of?’ said Munro, rattled by Delgado’s relaxed demeanour.
‘What I mean is, I’m not staying here. I pop in, now and then, to keep an eye on things.’
‘I see.’
‘You say that as if it sounds odd,’ said Delgado. ‘I can assure you, Inspector, it’s all above board.’
Munro said nothing. He peered upstairs before wandering, slowly, into the front
room.
‘And how long is your friend away?’ he said, scanning the bookshelves.
‘Oh, just a few days,’ said Delgado. ‘She’ll be...’
‘She?’
‘Yes.’
‘A few days, you say? Where has she gone?’
‘Ooh, couldn’t say, don’t know, I’m afraid. Friends, I imagine.’
‘Perhaps she’s gone to clear her head?’ said Munro.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You said Mr. Farnsworth-Brown often goes away to clear his head, so I wondered...’
‘Oh, I see what you mean,’ said Delgado. ‘No, she doesn’t need to do that and, before you ask, she doesn’t suffer from depression either. She’s rather, enlightened. Enjoys a positive outlook on…’
‘Good,’ said Munro. ‘Then, she’ll not be upset to find us here when she gets back. I assume you know when she’s coming back?’
Delgado pushed back his cap, scratched his head and smiled nervously.
‘Actually, I… you know, I don’t, exactly, she said she’d…’
‘And does she have a name?’ said Munro. ‘This friend of yours, the one who trusts you enough to give you her house keys?’
‘She does,’ said Delgado. ‘Problem is, I, er, I just don’t know it.’
Munro walked to the window and pulled the blinds shut.
‘It’s getting dark out,’ he said. ‘Folk can see in. So, let’s get this straight, you’ve let yourself in to a young lady’s house using her very own set of door keys and you’ve no idea of her name or where she’s gone? Do you not think that sounds a wee bit, odd?’
‘Well, if you put it like that, I suppose…’
‘It sounds downright unbelievable, laddie…’
‘She told me... she told me,’ said Delgado, ‘the less we knew about each other, the better it would be. That, if we got too involved, we might end up…’
‘Are you intimate with her?’ said Munro. ‘I mean, you and she, are you in a, relationship?’
‘Yes, if I’m honest...’
‘And that’s not involved?’
Delgado, looking embarrassed, drove his hands into his pockets and sighed.
‘Look, to be blunt,’ he said, ‘our relationship is basically, well, physical. Nothing more. We shag. Okay?’
‘I believe there’s an app for that,’ said Munro, as he ambled to the kitchen. He stood, stock still, closed his eyes and, head tilted back, took a long, deep breath. ‘Bleach,’ he said, quietly.
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