Close to Home (DI Adam Fawley #1)(32)

I go to the window and look down at the street. Outside the Tesco opposite, a little boy is playing with a small grey dog, swinging a tennis ball round and round on a piece of string. I sigh; the dog is not the only one going in circles right now.

‘Look,’ says Quinn eventually, ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but do you think there’s a chance that we’ve got this all wrong?’

I wait. Then, ‘How, exactly?’

‘You said it yourself earlier – Daisy could have left the house while Sharon was out and Leo probably wouldn’t even have noticed. Is it possible the poor little cow just ran away? With that family, you couldn’t blame her.’

I sigh. ‘I wondered that too. But it’s two days now. With the number of people we have looking, and her face all over the media – we’d have found her. One way or the other.’

‘Knock knock.’ It’s Gislingham at the door, with a sheaf of papers under his arm. ‘We just had a call from a woman who recognized Barry Mason on the TV appeal – ’

‘Yeah, and?’ says Quinn sardonically. ‘Must be hundreds of people out there who recognize him. Most of whom he’s ripped off. Frankly, I’m surprised it’s not him that’s gone missing – enough people must fantasize about doing him in.’

Which is in questionable taste, but I understand the sentiment.

Gislingham makes a face at the back of Quinn’s head. ‘If you’d let me finish. This woman – Amy Cathcart – says his name isn’t Barry Mason at all. It’s Aidan Miles.’

Quinn and I exchange glances. ‘And who the hell is Aidan Miles?’

Gislingham flips open his notepad. ‘Thirty-something divorcé, flat in Canary Wharf, job in investment banking. No kids but open to suggestions. Likes keeping fit, travel, the theatre, French cooking and all the good things in life.’

‘What the fuck – ?’

‘It’s his profile. On FindMeAHotDate.com.’

We must be gaping, because he grins. ‘No, really, I’m not making this up.’

He puts some papers on my desk. ‘This woman, Amy Cathcart, has been texting and emailing him for weeks. She sent me the whole lot – look.’

He shoots a side glance at Quinn; DC one, DS nil.

Quinn, meanwhile, is racing through the printouts. ‘No wonder Mason didn’t want his face on the news. Has this woman actually met him?’

‘Not yet. But look at the profile pic – it’s obviously him. Though if you go on the site now, you won’t find it. He deleted every trace the morning after Daisy disappeared.’

I sit back in my chair. ‘So no prizes for guessing what he was really up to when he claims he was underwater in Watlington.’

‘Will it be enough for a warrant?’

‘For the house, possibly not. But it may get us his phone and credit cards. I’ll get on it.’

*

Interview with Fiona Webster, conducted at 11 Barge Close, Oxford

21 July 2016, 5.45 p.m.

In attendance, DC V. Everett

VE: Thank you for seeing me again, Mrs Webster. I know this must be a difficult time for everyone.

FW: Do you know how long the press are going to be here? They’re turning the place into a pigsty. Litter everywhere, beer cans, and as for the parking –

VE: I think you said your daughter, Megan, is in the same class as Daisy?

FW: Yes, that’s right. Though how any of us didn’t notice it wasn’t her at the party, I’ll never know. Apparently all the kids knew the two girls had swapped costumes, but didn’t think to divulge the fact to their benighted parents.

VE: I believe one of this term’s projects was to write a fairy story?

FW: Oh yes, they had a lot of fun with that. Even the boys.

VE: What did Megan write about?

FW: Oh, the usual, princesses and dwarves and wicked stepmothers. Rapunzel meets Cinderella with a dollop of Frozen thrown in for good measure.

VE: Funny how the stepmothers are always wicked. It would make me think twice marrying a man with young kids – seems you’re on a hiding to nothing whatever you do.

FW: Oh, don’t let that put you off. In my experience mothers in general are on a hiding to nothing when they get to this age. You can’t do anything right. In fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the wicked witch in Megan’s story is based entirely on me.

VE: Funny you say that. The picture Daisy drew has a woman with shoes just like her mother’s.

FW: Shaz’s stilettos? Oh how funny - did they have the red soles too? Sharon claims they’re genuine Louboutins but personally I think it’s just nail varnish. I’m afraid they’ve become rather her trademark round here – she wears them everywhere regardless of the weather. Or the occasion. I saw her once half stuck in mud on the touchline when Leo was playing football. She did nothing but moan all afternoon. I don’t think she’s been to a match since.

VE: Does Barry Mason go – to the football, I mean?

FW: Sometimes. Not often. He and Leo aren’t exactly close.

VE: But I remember you saying Barry definitely was close to Daisy – the ‘dads and daughters thing’. Something about him carrying her around all the time?

FW: Well, yes. But I haven’t seen him doing that so much lately.