Local Gone Missing(76)
“To make them stop asking stupid questions. I was worried I’d say the wrong thing. How could they have seen my van? They’ve probably got the wrong night or something. Those cameras aren’t reliable.”
I nod. “Well, someone’s got it wrong.”
* * *
—
Elise and DS Brennan come back half an hour later, when Liam and Cal have gone to the park for a kick about.
“He’s not here,” I say.
“That’s all right,” Elise says. “It’s you we want to talk to. We’ve checked the footage, Mrs. Eastwood, and it’s definitely your husband’s van. But we can’t get a clear image of the driver. You appear to be the only other person with access to the keys. Could it have been you?”
“I doubt it. I was in bed. Are you sure you’ve got the right date?”
“Quite sure.”
“Well, I mean, I sometimes go to the garage or the big supermarket to buy biscuits or something for Cal’s packed lunch. I pop up there last thing for bits I’ve forgotten. They’re both open all night.”
“Why didn’t you say before?”
“You were asking Liam. Anyway, I can’t remember every time I go to the shop. Why are you asking, anyway?”
“We are looking at vehicles that drove past Tall Trees that night. And talking to people who might have seen something. Or someone.”
“I’d have said.”
“Right. Perhaps you could look at your bank account and see if you spent money at the garage or supermarket that night? It’s important. You do understand?”
“Of course, Elise. Sorry, DI King. I want to help.”
Fifty-eight
SATURDAY, AUGUST 31, 2019
Toby
Saul was fussing over last-minute adjustments to the luggage while Toby stared into his coffee.
“We’re over the weight limit, so I’m taking out jumpers—you’ve got your cream jacket if it’s cooler in the evening. Can you wear it on the plane?”
Toby nodded but he didn’t really know what he was agreeing to. Things had been better between them since the row about his walks last week. Saul had got hysterical, accusing him of seeing another man when he disappeared off on his own even though Saul knew he wasn’t the type. He’d never been on the scene, just quietly queer in the Essex town where he’d grown up. Saul had been his coup de foudre—an exchanged glance at a party had sealed the deal—and he’d never strayed once.
Toby had reached for his husband, pulling him in. “There’s no one, I swear. I love you. I’m just a bit stressed. There’s a lot going on, isn’t there?”
“Why have you been going to the Perrys’ place, then?” Saul’s voice was muffled in Toby’s shoulder.
Toby’s whole body stiffened.
“I . . . I haven’t. . . .”
“You have. Let’s stop the lies now. You owe me that.” Saul looked up at him, his face tearstained.
Toby pulled him even closer so he didn’t have to look at him. “I’ve been going on walks near there to try to get my head straight, that’s all,” he whispered into his husband’s ear.
“But you hate walking. . . .”
“There’s so much going on in our lives at the moment and I’ve needed to find a moment to myself. I’ve been driving up to that car park by the footpath.”
* * *
—
Toby couldn’t believe he’d bought it but Saul had been so relieved—it meant he could get back to full-on packing for the trip.
Toby had wanted to cancel the whole thing but Kevin told him he should go ahead with it.
“Don’t do anything to draw attention. And being away is a good thing.”
But he should say now. Stop all this. Just say it. We haven’t got enough money to pay for a baby, Saul. It’s all gone. He practiced it as the cappuccino froth collapsed in front of him. He should say now. Now.
“Saul,” he managed before his treacherous tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
“What? Come on, haven’t you finished that coffee yet? It’s two thirty! Go and get ready. I’ve never been in the VIP lounge at Heathrow—think of all that free champagne. I might have a massage. Come on!”
Toby was hauled out of his chair and into the nightmare to come. “Saul,” he tried again but he said it so softly that his husband didn’t seem to hear. He was already out of the door, wheeling the new suitcases into the hall and laughing about something.
Toby couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed. Or slept. He’d tell Saul when they got there. It was too late now. He’d tell Saul the first evening in LA. That their plans had to change. But he knew he wouldn’t. How could he? What would he say about the money? Where it had gone. Why he couldn’t get it back.
It was his fault. He should never have booked the flights. He’d jinxed it all by buying two first-class tickets to Los Angeles. It’d been a special offer in his inbox in June—too good to miss, he’d told himself. He’d have the money to pay for them in plenty of time with his investment due to pay out. But he should never have gone ahead.