Читать книгу Keep Her Close - M.J. Ford - Страница 11

Jo was thorough, losing herself in the details of the report, and not even looking up as Stratton, Carrick, and Cranleigh emerged from the office and picked up Dimitriou. She knew Carrick would feel terrible, but she was in too much of a foul mood even to give him the chance to show contrition for whipping the case from under her. Afterwards she texted Lucas and told him she’d be over at his place at eight, and could pick up a takeaway if there was anything he fancied. He answered almost immediately that he didn’t mind.

Pryce came through. ‘I’ve told Catskill we don’t need him anymore. I thought you were going back to the college?’ Jo rubbed her cold hands together, and explained she was being sidelined in favour of the boys’ club. ‘It’s just you, Stratton, Carrick and Dimitriou. Think of it like a four-ball.’

Pryce looked bewildered. ‘I don’t think DI Carrick plays golf,’ he replied.

‘It was a joke,’ said Jo. ‘To break the tension and prevent me killing someone.’

She stood up, grabbed her coat, and left. Andy Carrick had texted with a single word, ‘Sorry’, and an unhappy emoticon. She appreciated the gesture and wrote back ‘No hard feelings,’ with a face gritting its teeth in rage. If the last six months had taught her anything, it was that life was too short. She hoped they found Malin quickly, in good health.

Security lights illuminated the car park as she trailed over to her navy Peugeot. It was a dry day, but there was a thin layer of ice on the inside of the windscreen. She got in, started the engine and cranked the heaters. As she grabbed the de-icer, she wondered about getting a new car. Her brother had kindly offered her some money from the sale of the family house, if it ever happened, and her promotion had more than covered the costs of the fertility treatment back in the clinic in Bath. Compared to sixth months ago, in the aftermath of the break-up with Ben, she was comparatively well-off. At the moment, she was still paying for a one-bed flat in Oxford, though spending almost every night at Lucas’s. She’d been meaning to talk with him about it, about moving in properly, but it seemed to be just the opening of a much bigger conversation they needed to have about the future. About family, particularly. When she thought about it, it brought her out in a sweat. Somehow Dr Forster had coaxed it all out of her, like the forensic interviewer she was in just their second session. Lucas was twenty-eight, and there was really no reason at all he should be thinking about kids, but Jo didn’t have that luxury. She’d wasted her best years with Ben, only to be betrayed, and now – just shy of thirty-nine – she felt time slipping between her fingers at accelerated speed. The eggs she’d frozen with the Bright Futures clinic in the autumn would practically keep forever, but she was under no illusions that her chances of being a mother were anything but shrinking. If Lucas wasn’t ‘The One’ – and how she hated that term – then she had to make some difficult decisions soon. Maybe tonight was the night to do it.

She cleared the ice, reversed carefully and drove out onto St Aldates.

There was a Korean place on the route back to Lucas’s flat that they both liked, and she pulled up outside. She ordered a Bulgogi for herself, and veggie Bibimbap for him, and was waiting for the food to come when her phone rang.

‘Hello?’

‘Detective Masters, it’s Anna Mull, Malin’s friend. Have you found her?’

‘Not yet,’ said Jo. Anna didn’t answer but let out a sigh, so Jo asked, ‘Is there something else you want to tell me?’

‘I don’t know if I should say anything,’ said Anna.

‘Then you probably should,’ said Jo. ‘Even if it doesn’t seem important, it might assist us.’

‘You asked me earlier, about enemies …’ Anna was speaking quietly, and Jo wondered if she was with someone else.

‘And you said not,’ Jo replied.

‘Something happened,’ she said. ‘Last term. I don’t know if it’s important … ’

She’s really nervous.

‘Why don’t you tell me, and we’ll see.’

‘There’s a tutor here – Professor Ronald Myers. Malin made a complaint about him … being inappropriate. Anyway, he’s retired now. I just thought you should know. It’s probably nothing.’

‘You mean sexually inappropriate?’

‘He tried to kiss her,’ said Anna. ‘She told him she wasn’t interested.’

‘And Myers teaches at Oriel?’

‘Not anymore,’ said Anna. ‘He left in the summer.’

‘How old is he?’

‘I don’t know. Sixties, I suppose. I didn’t want to say before – it’s seems quite unlikely …’

Jo’s heart quickened, her chest fluttering. ‘Do you know where we can find Myers now?’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t,’ said Anna. ‘Ms Frampton-Keys will be able to tell you. I’d rather you didn’t mention me, though.’

‘No, of course not. Thanks, Anna. Oh, one more thing. We spoke to Ross, and he told us that Malin thought she was being followed recently. Did she ever mention anything like that to you?’

A pause. ‘I’m sorry – I don’t think she did.’

‘It’s something you’d remember, presumably?’

‘Well, yes. I can’t imagine why she’d keep anything like that from me.’

‘Okay – thanks for your time.’

Jo waited by the counter. Maybe she wasn’t being followed at all, and it genuinely was paranoia. It did seem strange that she’d only made the claim to Ross Catskill. Unless he’s lying, to throw us off …

Jo thought about ringing Frampton-Keys for Myers’ address, but thought better of it. She’d shown where her loyalties lay already, and would probably call Professor Myers right after getting off the phone. The college office might help, but the same issue applied. She called Heidi instead, and asked casually for an address check without mentioning the case it related to. In half a minute, she had it.

‘Thanks, Heidi.’

With the Korean food losing heat and filling the car with its scent, Jo turned around and drove to the address in the north east of the city. Her toes still stubbornly refused to warm up. Ronald Myers’ place was a quaint cottage in Marston that opened right onto the narrow pavement. Jo drove past once and, seeing lights on, parked around the corner. She walked between the pools of light from the streetlamps, her breath clouding on the air. She used the heavy brass knocker.

As he opened the door onto a narrow and cosy hallway, Jo’s first impression was that Myers wasn’t all that old. A swarthy black beard covered his lower face; he looked more like a sea captain than a tutor of history. The thick and slightly shapeless jumper he wore only added to that impression, and his broad forearms stuck out through the bottom of the shrunken sleeves. His nails, on his squared fingertips, were thick and yellowing.

Jo introduced herself. ‘We’re investigating the disappearance of a former student of yours – Malin Sigurdsson.’

Myers’ brows contracted around a deep vertical cleft. ‘Has something happened to her?’

‘Maybe I could come in?’ said Jo.

Myers moved aside. ‘Go on through,’ he said.

Jo squeezed past and found herself in a cosy lounge, lined on two sides by floor-to-ceiling shelves of books. A wood-burning stove was blazing and she was too hot at once. On a small table was a set of car keys with a branded Morris Garages keyring.

‘Can I get you anything?’ asked Myers, with his back to her. He crouched, opened the stove and placed on another log.

‘No, thank you,’ she said. ‘I won’t take up much of your time. When did you last see Malin Sigurdsson?’

Myers straightened, turned to face her and spread his shovel-like hands. Jo wondered how he’d feel about giving fingerprints. ‘I haven’t seen her for weeks,’ he said. ‘Months. Not since I retired. Before the summer break.’

‘So you’ve had no contact since then?’

He sat on a sagging armchair and placed both hands on his knees. ‘Perhaps you could explain what this is about?’

‘Malin’s missing,’ said Jo. ‘We’re following a number of leads to ascertain what might have happened.’

‘I assure you I know nothing of that,’ said Myers.

‘Can you tell me exactly the nature of your relationship with Malin?’

‘I was her tutor.’

‘Until you … retired?’ He nodded. ‘You see, I heard you left under something of a cloud.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Jo. ‘You were attracted to Malin, though?’

‘Is that a crime?’

‘You tried to kiss her and she didn’t like it.’

‘I went through all this with the college,’ he said. ‘I made a mistake, as foolish old men are wont to do.’

‘Sounds like sexual assault to me,’ said Jo.

‘All right – I’d like you to leave,’ said Myers.

‘We haven’t finished talking.’

Myers stood up. ‘Do I need to call your superiors?’ he said. ‘I’m quite aware of my rights.’

Jo stood as well. ‘Don’t worry – we’re on top of things,’ she said. ‘All right if I have a look around?’

She began to walk towards another door. It looked like there was a dining area on the other side, with a set of stairs running right to left. Myers blocked her path.

‘It isn’t,’ he said. ‘This is my home, and I’ve made my wishes clear.’

‘We can come back with a warrant,’ she said.

‘Then do so.’ He gestured towards the door, impatient and resolute. ‘Good evening, detective.’

She showed herself out into the cold street, looking up and down. He was probably watching her from inside. She walked back to her car, drove slowly back past his house, then pulled up in a layby a couple of streets away. The fact he hadn’t consented to a search didn’t mean much, in her experience.

The food would be stone cold. She texted Lucas to let him know she’d been delayed. It wouldn’t be the first time work had got in the way of sustenance.

After five minutes, the headlights of a car emerged from the side street beside Myers’ house. They reflected in her mirrors. Jo pressed herself down in her seat. An MG sports car passed, indicated left and turned out of sight. Jo started her engine and followed.

‘Where are you off to, Ron?’ she muttered.

They hit the A40, joining traffic and heading south. Jo stayed a couple of cars back. After less than a mile, Myers drifted across to the exit for Barton. Jo copied his signals. Her stomach felt light with nerves. He’d looked surprisingly strong for his age. If it came to it, she had a police-issue telescopic baton in the car, and CS gas spray.

He slowed as he drove past a small parade of shops, pulling into the car park. There were a few people around, and he reversed into a space. Jo felt the tension dip as she stopped on the road opposite. Maybe he was just coming out for a pint of milk. Was this the closest shop? When he got out, he was carrying a plastic bag. He walked away from the shop though, down a path between an illuminated launderette and a closed chip shop. Jo tucked the baton into her inner coat pocket, got out and crossed the road in pursuit.

There was a sign saying ‘Recreation ground’ pointing up the alley.

Jo wondered for a moment if she’d lost him when she reached a set of traffic lights at a smaller road. Behind a low fence opposite was a large open space lined with trees. Netting suspended between several trunks told her it was probably a cricket ground in the summer months. She saw a movement further up the pavement, as Myers dipped in through a gate. He was walking more quickly. She went across herself, and vaulted the fence, staying under the trees. She was breathing hard, but it was only nervousness making her heart pump faster. Myers walked towards a bench with a bin beside it. She knew what he was going to do, before he did it. He peered into the bin, then placed the bag inside. Jo smiled grimly, waited for him to leave, then hurried across to the bench herself, taking her pocket-torch from her handbag. The bin was empty but for the bag. She used a tissue between her fingers to fish it out. It wasn’t heavy, but several items jostled inside.

She crouched and carefully tipped them onto the frost-covered grass. Four objects. The first three – a toothbrush, a pot of expensive face cream, a hairbrush – might feasibly have belonged to Myers himself. The last – a flimsy silk camisole nightdress – sealed it.

Got you, you fucker.

Jo wanted nothing more than to apprehend Myers herself, but she fought the urge. No rush. She bagged up the things, and walked calmly back towards her car, dialling Andy Carrick on the way. She could feel the lightness of her breath as she filled him in and the adrenalin of the pursuit seeped from her veins. As ever, he listened patiently without interrupting until she’d finished.

‘Where are you now?’

‘Following on foot. My guess is he’ll head straight home.’

‘Good work, Jo. Stay back and observe. We’re on our way.’

Jo hung up, thrilled with the triumph, trying to imagine the look on DCI Stratton’s face when they brought Myers in. There’s no way you can keep me out now …

* * *

In the end, Myers did stop at the shop, and Carrick was already at his house with two squad cars by the time he returned. The retired tutor didn’t try to run, and Jo walked over to hear Carrick asking him to come to the station to answer questions relating to the possible murder of Malin Sigurdsson.

‘You think I killed her?’

‘Did you?’ asked Carrick.

‘Of course I bloody didn’t,’ said Myers.

‘Then you won’t mind helping us with our enquiries.’

‘I don’t see how I can,’ said Myers.

Jo watched as they took him across to the squad car.

‘Mind if I join you inside?’ she said. ‘In a purely observational capacity, of course.’

‘Be my guest,’ said Carrick. ‘And again, sorry about earlier.’

‘It’s academic now,’ said Jo.

Dimitriou was organising uniforms laying out the cordon.

‘You’re making us look bad,’ he said, as Jo entered the house again.

She walked straight through to the pantry-style kitchen. A washing machine was running, and she switched it off at the wall. Then she went up a set of spiral stairs with a wrought-iron balustrade. The house was a two-up, two-down, with a small extension at the rear over both storeys. The room at the front had more books, and was given over to stacked storage crates; the rear one was Myers’ bedroom with an en-suite. The bed was stripped. The pictures on the walls were tasteful watercolours. She checked the wardrobe, the linen basket, and any cupboards she could find.

Carrick was out in the garden, looking in the shed.

They met back downstairs.

‘Nothing,’ she said.

Dimitriou joined them. ‘The shopping bag is full of cleaning products – bleach, clothes, rubber gloves, brushes. He was trying to cover his tracks.’

‘He’s washed his bedsheets,’ said Jo.

Carrick was frowning.

‘You’re wondering why he took the toothbrush and the face cream,’ she said. ‘Trophies?’

He shrugged. ‘Maybe, but there was a toothbrush in her college room as well. I’ve just come from there.’ Jo cast her mind back. She didn’t remember seeing one, but Carrick’s nickname was Nikon, because of his freakishly photographic memory.

One of the uniforms came in. ‘Excuse me, sir. We’ve done a preliminary search. Pretty sure the girl isn’t here.’

She was at one point though, thought Jo. So where’s he put her?

‘Thanks,’ said Carrick. He looked at the books on the shelves, as if one of them might contain the answers they needed. ‘Dimi, stay here and coordinate. Knock on the neighbours, see if they can give us anything. Comings and goings, noises, suspicious behaviours.’

‘What about me?’ asked Jo.

‘You’re off shift, aren’t you?’ said Carrick.

‘Stop winding me up, Andy,’ said Jo. ‘Let me come with you and have a crack at Myers.’

‘The Chief won’t be happy. But, well …’

‘Fuck him?’ said Jo.

Carrick grimaced. In the seven months since Jo had first met him, she’d never heard him use a single expletive.

‘I agree with the sentiment,’ he said, ‘if not the manner of expression.’