Читать книгу The Runaway - Ali Harper - Страница 12

When we got back to the office, I rang directory enquiries and got the number for the missing persons’ helpline. I rang them straight away and gave them the few details we had for Vicky Doe: white, female, previously given birth, aged between twenty-two and twenty-five when she died seven years ago; possibly from either Leeds or Nottingham. Not much to go on really.

‘I’ll check our database,’ the woman on the phone said.

‘The police probably checked at the time,’ I said.

‘You never know. We get new reports all the time – sometimes for people who’ve been missing for years.’

‘Why would someone not report them missing at the time?’

‘Sometimes it takes a while for people to realize their loved ones are actually missing, not just out of touch.’ She checked herself. ‘But you shouldn’t get your hopes up too high. Hundreds of women go missing and are never reported.’

It makes you think, doesn’t it? Hundreds of women go missing and no one ever reports their disappearance? I glanced across at Jo and she raised her eyebrows as if to say I told you so. And of course she had. I’m not naive, I know there’s a lot goes on in this world that most people would rather not know about, but it takes a lot to have no one care – to have no one in your life that cares enough to report you as missing? These women were ghosts, drifting in and out of people’s lives, not having made enough of an impact to even be sought.

The woman on the phone said she’d get someone to call me back, but warned it might take a few hours.

‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ said Aunt Edie, as she dropped an envelope into the out tray.

‘We need you to get us a plan of the flats. Either from the management company, or the fire service or something,’ I said to Aunt Edie.

‘Don’t forget – we’ve got to be at Old Bar at two o’clock,’ Jo reminded me. ‘Are we going to walk?’

I glanced at the clock. It was just past one.

‘It’d be great if Matt just turns up,’ said Jo. ‘Easiest case ever.’

‘Mmm. Although Nikki’s still got the job of breaking the news to her parents.’

‘Poor mite,’ said Edie, coming back from the kitchen. ‘She rang this morning to see if there was any news. I told her she’d have to be patient.’

‘We can call in and see Tuff while we’re there – he works in the bookshop just opposite the uni. Jan seemed to think he knew something but wasn’t telling. And he needs to report the damage to Matt’s car.’

The click of the kettle sounded and Aunt Edie made to get up, but I beat her to it.

‘My turn.’

I picked up Aunt Edie’s mug.

‘Tenner still says he’s with a woman somewhere,’ said Jo.

‘He might be finishing his essay. They work very hard, these students, and no one gives them credit,’ said Aunt Edie, as I made my way through to the back.

Which would make him difficult to find. I poured the water from the kettle. He’d be leaving the house only to buy fags and Pro-Plus tablets. I thought back to our trip to Roundhay Park and how out of the ordinary it had felt. As a general rule, Leeds 6 residents don’t travel. They might go home to see their parents once a term, but other than that they wore grooves in the pavement going from Leeds 6 to the edges of the city and back again. Chances were Matt was holed up in a house a stone’s throw from where I was standing. Didn’t make the job any easier though.

‘Or trying to ditch a clingy girlfriend.’ I used my back to push open the office door as my hands were full with the three mugs of tea. I turned to see a grimace on Jo’s face and Nikki standing in the front office. She wore a pink and orange top that reminded me of ruby grapefruits.

‘Clingy girlfriend?’ The bangles on her arms jangled.

‘Another case,’ said Jo. ‘Take a seat.’

‘Who said that?’

‘Nikki, hi,’ I said, my knuckles burning against the mugs. I put them down on Aunt Edie’s desk. ‘What brings you here?’

She carried an envelope, which she waved at me while she spoke. ‘Clingy?’

‘Come on in, take a seat. I’m glad you’re here.’ The lie was obvious to the both of us. I sat at my desk and pulled out the notebook from the top drawer. I gestured for her to take a seat, but she ignored me. ‘We’ve made extensive enquiries.’

‘Have you found him?’

‘We’ve spoken to his tutor, people at the uni, his housem—’

‘Jan. Jan told you I was clingy. Bitch.’

I flicked through some pages, pretending to scan my notes. ‘Jan told us it’s not the first time Matt’s done a runner.’

‘Have you found him?’

‘No.’

‘No? Nothing?’

‘We’ve got a few leads to follow up.’

‘Like?’

‘Listen,’ said Jo. She guided Nikki into the seat in front of my desk. ‘You have to let us do our job. We’ve not had twenty-four hours yet. As soon as we know anything, we’ll tell you, I promise.’

‘I brought the photos.’ She handed me the envelope. I flipped it open and pulled out half a dozen snapshots of a man: standing on a beach in a pair of shorts in the first one, his torso bronzed and firm. Nice, I caught myself thinking. Nice … if you like that kind of thing. Which I don’t. I mean, I can appreciate art – doesn’t mean I want to learn how to paint. I handed the pictures to Jo.

‘Probably the next step is to contact his parents,’ I said. ‘Unless—’

‘Mmm,’ said Jo. ‘Tasty, isn’t he?’

Nikki glared at her for a moment before turning back to me. ‘Unless?’

‘Just saying,’ said Jo as Aunt Edie crowded in for a look.

‘Someone may have arranged to meet him.’ I put a hand up to quell the excitement that that news generated. ‘We don’t know whether he’ll show. He might not have got the note.’

‘The note?’

‘I can’t tell you anymore at this time, Nikki. Jo’s right – you have to let us get on with things.’

‘Do you know anyone with the initial S?’ Jo asked. ‘Someone who might want to meet up with Matty?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m going home this weekend,’ she said. ‘It’s my dad’s sixtieth.’ She slung her shoulder bag on the desk, and in doing so knocked over my mug of tea. Aunt Edie threw herself across the desk and grabbed my laptop. Boiling hot liquid seeped across my desk and burned through the leg of my denim shorts.

‘Sorry,’ said Nikki, a wobble in her voice. ‘It’s like an alien has taken over my body. I can’t stand it.’

Aunt Edie sat the laptop on the filing cabinet and went through to the kitchenette as Jo moved everything off my desk and onto Aunt Edie’s. I did a quick risk assessment and led Nikki over to the coffee table and chairs in the corner of the room. ‘Take a seat.’

‘I just want to eat and throw up. That’s my whole life. And I can’t do this without Matt.’

‘Look,’ I said, almost pushing her into the chair, ‘we’ll go along to this meeting. Even if he doesn’t show up the person might know something about where he is.’

‘Where is this meeting?’

‘Nikki, you have to leave this to us. Trust me.’

Aunt Edie came back into the office with an armful of tea towels. I glanced up at the clock on the wall. ‘We’ve got to run. Here, drink Jo’s tea. Edie will look after you, won’t you?’

Jo unhooked her jacket from the peg by the door and we bustled out the door.

We got to Old Bar ten minutes before 2 p.m. We were looking for a young woman with long hair and too much eyeliner. Not the most accurate description to go on, but at least we now had a photo of Matt. I wouldn’t have any trouble recognizing him if he showed up.

We got a drink and took a table. Jo pulled a packet of cards from her pocket and we played a game of Spite and Malice. I was grateful she’d brought the cards – I’m never very sure what to do with my hands when I can’t wrap them around a cold pint of lager.

We’d only been there a few minutes when another woman entered the room and sat down. She didn’t order a drink – just sat at a table and took out a file. Once she’d settled, Jo sidled up to her and said in that conspiratorial way that she has, ‘You waiting for Matt?’ The woman frowned and shook her head.

Jo returned to her seat and we played another three or four games (I won but I don’t think Jo’s heart was in it) until another lone woman entered the bar. She didn’t look like our woman – because her hair was short, really short – but there was something about her demeanour that made me stare at her. She was furtive, wary almost. Like she was sticking to the shadows. I glanced at the clock. It was twenty past two. She bought a pint and made her way to a table at the far side of the room. Jo and I carried on playing, but I couldn’t help glancing over every minute or two. Her pint sat, untouched, on the table in front of her. Women drinking alone are still a rarity, even now. Jo saw me noticing her and raised an eyebrow. Worth a shot, I knew she was saying.

I packed away the cards as Jo crossed the room. I watched her place both her palms on the table and lean across to the woman. The music had increased in volume since we’d arrived and I knew Jo was having to raise her voice to make herself heard. I watched the woman’s face turn from indifference, to engaged and then to something else I didn’t quite recognize from my position at the other side of the room. Was it fear? She’d jolted when Jo had first approached her, like she’d been disturbed from her own private world, even though it was clear she was waiting for someone.

I slipped the boxes of cards into my pocket and made my way to join them.

‘… not until you’ve told me who you are,’ the woman was saying.

‘Keep your voice down.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Hang on.’ I pulled one of our business cards from my back pocket. The trouble is, in the Students’ Union, everyone assumes we’re students. ‘We’re private investigators,’ I said. She snatched the card from me and I noticed the tremor that seemed to run through her entire body. ‘We’re looking for Matt,’ I said.

She turned to stare at me and her huge green eyes were like pools, open wide, framed by the longest black lashes and thick eyeliner. She was stunningly beautiful in a Betty Blue kind of a way. ‘Why?’

‘We can’t tell you that.’

‘Do you know?’ she said. The fear in her voice unmistakeable, she might as well have unwrapped it and placed it on the table in front of us.

‘Do we know what?’ asked Jo.

‘We found your note,’ I said. I felt the need to reassure her, although I didn’t really know why. ‘That’s all we know – that you’re looking for him too.’

She stared at me for a moment and I knew she was working out whether to trust me. ‘I don’t have his phone number. He didn’t reply to my Facebook message. I didn’t know what else to do.’

‘He’s not answering his phone,’ I said. ‘We’ve tried too.’

‘He’s not coming, is he?’

I shook my head. ‘No one’s seen him since the weekend.’

She nodded, like she wasn’t surprised. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said. Her voice quiet, matter of fact.

‘Shall we go somewhere else – somewhere where we can talk?’ I asked. Jo wasn’t saying much, I noticed. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Sara.’

‘I’m Lee. This is Jo. Maybe we can help you. You’re trying to find him. We’re trying to find him. Maybe we can help each other.’

She stared at me like she had no idea what I was talking about.

‘Find him, I mean,’ I said. I coughed to clear the frog in my throat but it didn’t seem to make any difference.

‘You won’t,’ she said.

‘Not saying much for our fine detective skills.’ I tried a smile to show I was joking.

‘He doesn’t want to be found,’ she said.

‘Well, we’ve been there before.’ I frowned at Jo. She hadn’t said a word for the last minute.

Jo licked her lips and the saliva shone under the UV light. ‘At least hear us out,’ she said. ‘Give us half a chance.’

Sara nodded. ‘No point waiting here. What was I thinking? Fucking moron.’ I didn’t know whether she was referring to herself or Matt. She pulled the pint towards her and necked half of it.

‘Shall we—?’ Jo started, but I didn’t get to hear the end of her sentence because a dash of orange filled my vision and I heard someone shout, ‘Where is he?’

I felt the wet splash of cold lager down my right thigh. The other leg of my shorts was still damp from the cup of tea incident back at the office. Sara’s forehead creased up.

‘Get lost.’

‘Don’t you dare, you cow.’

I turned round, already knowing what I was going to see. Nikki, standing behind me, empty pint glass in her hand, her face red, spit flying from her lips. ‘Might have known you’d be sniffing around. Can’t keep your hands—’

‘All right, Nikki.’ Jo grabbed her arm. ‘Let’s not turn this into an episode of Eastenders, eh?’ She turned Nikki around and pushed her in the direction of the exit.

‘I want to know where he is,’ Nikki shouted over her shoulder. She hurled the pint glass to the floor and shards of glass splintered across the wooden floorboards.

The barman stared at us. He wasn’t much older than Nikki. I looked at Sara. She shrugged her shoulders.

‘Shall we?’ I said.

Sara drained the remainder of her pint and stood up. It felt like every single person in the bar had stopped speaking. Sara, to give her credit, held her head up and made her way through the bar towards the door.

A man with a nose stud put his hand on my arm. ‘That was my pint,’ he said, gesturing towards the remains of the glass Nikki had smashed.

‘Sorry.’ I tried to shake his hand off.

‘You owe me a pint.’

‘I didn’t chuck it.’

‘Your mate did.’

I lost sight of Sara as she disappeared through the door of the bar and into the corridor outside. I fished in my pocket and found a crumpled fiver and shoved it into his hands. ‘Here.’

When I emerged through the door into the corridor outside, Sara was over by the far wall, bent down to tie her shoelace.

As I got closer, I realized she wasn’t tying her shoelace. In fact her boots didn’t have laces.

‘I can’t deal with this,’ she said, and I saw that she was crying. Not crying like she was sad. Crying like she was in pain.

‘What’s the matter?’ I said. I glanced around for Jo.

‘Leave me alone,’ she said. And I wanted to, I really did. Emotional scenes are not my strong point.

She jumped up, turned and ran and I hesitated, didn’t know what to do. I’d probably be able to match her for speed but something held me back from chasing. I scanned the corridor again and saw Jo, the back of her, heading the other way, leading Nikki in the direction of the laundrette. I considered the options for a moment. The look on Sara’s face scared me. I couldn’t let her go. I yelled, ‘Back in a minute,’ to Jo and set off. I chased Sara through the Student Union building, up from the basement, out through the main door and down the steps into the courtyard.

I was still wearing my trainers so I had the advantage. There were lots of students milling about but Sara was tall so she stood out. She turned left and ran in the direction of Hyde Park, but when she got to the end of the courtyard, she paused, turned and stared at me. I was fifty yards behind. She shook her head at me, took a sharp left and disappeared. I felt chastened by her stare, but I carried on. A porter came out of one of the buildings pushing a trolley stacked with cardboard boxes, I had to pause a second so that we didn’t collide. When he’d moved, I continued on round the corner, watched her climb up the steps to one of the buildings, a substantial terraced house. I put on speed, felt my heart start to pound and charged after her. I pushed my way through the front door.

‘Where you running to?’ asked a man sitting behind a reception desk.

‘Did you see a woman come in here? With black hair?’ I took a breath, tried to compose myself.

‘You have to sign in,’ he said. ‘Who’s your appointment with?’

‘Did you see her?’ I turned and surveyed my surroundings. There was a staircase up to the left and off the corridor on the right-hand side of the staircase there was another three or four doors. All of them closed.

He stood up, I think to show he was much bigger than me. He stared at me, like he was waiting for the answer to his question rather than having any intention of answering mine. ‘You’re not a student of this department,’ he said.

‘What is this department?’

‘There’s a sign on the door,’ he said. ‘You can read it on your way out.’

I thought about arguing with him, but knew it wasn’t going to get me anywhere. It wasn’t going to get me inside. I shrugged like I couldn’t care less and turned to leave. As I closed the front door behind me I noticed the sign by the side of it: ‘University of Leeds, School of Fine Art and Cultural Studies’. I’d be back.

*

I found Jo and Nikki sitting on the wall outside the Students’ Union. Well, Jo sat and smoked while Nikki paced, chewing a thumbnail.

‘What the fuck did you do that for?’ I shouted at Nikki soon as I was close enough.

‘It’s not my fault.’

‘You just chased off our only witness.’

Nikki snorted air through her nostrils. ‘Might have known she’d be involved.’

‘Who is she?’

‘She’s sex mad. Everyone knows.’

‘What?’

‘Nikki thinks Sara might have “stolen” Matt,’ Jo explained, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head at the same time.

I took the cigarette from Jo’s fingers and had a drag. ‘Stolen him?’

‘Yes,’ said Jo. ‘Kidnapped him, held him against his will in her sex dungeon. You know, like women do.’

I didn’t think Jo was helping. ‘We needed to speak to her,’ I said to Nikki. ‘She might have been able to help. Do you want us to find your boyfriend or what?’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I can’t take the sitting around.’

‘So, Sara knows Matt?’

Nikki sat down on the wall next to Jo and folded her arms across her chest. ‘They’re both in Greenpeace. She thinks she’s God’s gift.’

I remembered the look on Sara’s face. It didn’t strike me as the look of someone who thought they were God’s gift. What did she know? What did she want from Matt? I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. ‘Who told you where we’d be?’

Nikki didn’t answer. Jo and I glanced at each other.

‘Aunt Edie,’ we both said at the same time.

‘It wasn’t her fault,’ Nikki said. ‘I asked her for a glass of water, and while she was out of the room, I read the notes she was typing up.’

I made a mental note to have a word with our receptionist-stroke-office-manager when we got back to the office.