Local Gone Missing(42)
“Did you not sleep?” Saul said. “I heard you walking about downstairs in the early hours again. You look terrible.”
“Thanks. That’s made me feel so much better. I’m a bit tired, that’s all. Lots going on.”
“Look, I’ve got everything under control. I’m already packed. I’ve bought you a new shirt—did I show you? And Barry is all sorted for running the restaurant—he’s arriving Friday. He’s looking forward to his fortnight by the sea and I’m so excited— Oh, I should have told Kevin about our trip to LA. I told him about Charlie Perry, though.”
Toby whirled round and almost fell off his seat.
“What? What did you tell him?”
“Look out.” Saul steadied the back of the chair. “That he’s the body they found.”
Toby’s face went blank. “Right,” he said. “Awful thing to happen.”
“That’s exactly what Kevin said.”
Thirty-two
TUESDAY, AUGUST 27, 2019
Elise
Elise was rehearsing what she needed to say in her statement about finding Charlie when the text reminder of her appointment with the oncology consultant pinged on her phone.
She pushed her lunch away and sat staring at the tabletop.
A ring at the door made her jump up. Ronnie’s early, she thought, grateful for the distraction. “Finally found my bell, then?” She smiled as she opened the door.
But it was a woman with sunglasses on her head.
“Er, hello,” Elise said. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, I hope so.” She smiled warmly. “I’m not having much luck.”
“Right. So . . . ?”
“I’m Kiki Nunn—from the Sussex Today website.”
“Ah . . . not sure I have anything to say to a reporter.”
“But, Ms. King”—and Elise noted she hadn’t mentioned her rank. Does she know I’m a cop?—“I’m told you might have known Mr. Perry. And I understand you’re a police officer. . . .”
Right.
“I am but I’m on sick leave.”
“Yes, I heard that. Sorry, but I promise not to take more than five minutes of your time. There’s a lot of mad gossip and speculation circulating and I just want to tell the readers a few facts.”
“What sort of speculation?”
“That Mr. Perry was beaten to death. And ‘immigrants’?”—she raked the air with quote marks—“are responsible. Horrible stuff.”
“Why are people saying that? Do they have any evidence?”
“?’Course not. People just do. This sort of garbage always fills an information void. You only have to look at social media—people with an ax to grind or a conspiracy theory just stick it out there often enough, and suddenly it’s true. That’s why I’m trying to put some of it to bed. I’d love some real info to put up on the website.”
It made sense but Elise hesitated.
“I don’t know anything about Sussex Today,” she said, fumbling with her phone to look it up.
When the site popped up, Ebbing was all over it. There was a photo of Tracy Cook and another of her weeping mother with the headline “Teen Comes Out of Coma After Festival Ecstasy OD.” A small picture of fire engines at the Old Vicarage and a big blurry one of Charlie Perry, under “Pensioner Dead in Cellar.” But no celeb-shaming photos.
“Goodness you’ve been busy. Has the website been going long?”
“Not really—but I have.” Kiki sighed. “I’ve been a reporter for years but this is my first online job and it’s incredibly stressful. I’ve got a twelve-year-old news editor and he wants me to upload content. Content! That’s what they call news now. Sorry. I’m venting,” she said with a laugh.
And Elise let her in.
Journalists were known by some of her lot as an unnecessary evil. Elise had never seen it that way, though; her view was that they could help one another and she never said no to help. Most of them were fine, especially the crime reporters she met over and over again. They were mainly blokes—young ones who bounced around a story like Tigger, and old boys—the Eeyores who’d seen and done everything. But she kept boundaries: She didn’t go out and get drunk with them like some or go to their houses for Sunday barbecues. It was a working relationship.
“I assume you’re talking to the press office?” she said. “They’re the official source.”
“Yes, but they’ve been giving out the same line since the body was found. That’s no good for rolling news or the rumor mill. And I can’t get near DI Ward.”
“He’ll hold a press conference, I’m sure.”
Elise would. Would’ve already done it. To get the word out, get people remembering where they had last seen Charlie. What they had seen. Instead, they were letting the hate chat and lurid rumors ramp up. And if she didn’t say anything, Ms. Nunn would probably knock next door and get Ronnie. . . .
“All right, tell me what you know and I’ll try to guide you in the right direction,” she said, and pointed to the other chair.
Kiki smiled again and sat. “Thanks.”