Then She Vanishes(22)

I smile confidently while my mind races for excuses as to why I’ve taken a potential piece of evidence from a crime scene. I reach into my pocket and hand him the card. ‘I was at the Wilsons’ house earlier.’ I notice the duty officer moves away to talk to someone who has come in behind me. ‘And I saw this attached to a bunch of flowers. It sounded threatening. Thought it might be important.’ Let him believe I’ve done him a favour.

He pushes his black-framed glasses further onto his nose and frowns down at the card. ‘Right,’ he says, glancing up at me, his eyebrow raised questioningly. ‘And you took it because …?’

‘Like I said, I thought it might be important. And I didn’t want it to blow away or get lost.’

He doesn’t say anything else but rests his finger lightly on the card, as though worried I might snatch it back. ‘Right. Anything else I can help you with?’

I stand up straighter. This could work to my advantage. ‘While I’m here, I was wondering … Do you have any more information on the victims? Like, what kind of people were they?’ I nod towards the card. ‘It sounds like they could have had enemies. Were they – Clive particularly – into anything … I don’t know …’ I lift my shoulders ‘… dodgy?’

‘Dodgy?’ Ruthgow rubs the skin between his eyebrows as if he’s never heard the word before. ‘I’m afraid I can’t reveal anything at this point in the investigation.’

‘But you think it’s an open and closed case? That Heather Underwood committed the murders?’

He sighs. ‘We’re not taking anything for granted.’

‘So someone else could be involved?’

‘I’m not necessarily saying that.’

‘Does Clive have a criminal record?’ I persist. It comes out of nowhere but is a last-ditch attempt at finding out something.

Ruthgow falters. ‘I … Not exactly. No. There was a complaint made about him.’

I mentally rub my hands together. ‘What sort of complaint?’

Ruthgow shoots me a warning look. ‘This is off the record. But someone complained about him and the police were called. He was issued with a warning but no further action was taken.’ He holds up his hands as though to ward off any further words. ‘That’s all I can say at this point.’ He turns his attention back to the card. ‘You know, you shouldn’t tamper with a crime scene.’

‘I thought I was doing the right thing.’ I smile sweetly.

‘You shouldn’t have taken this card.’ His voice is stern but fatherly.

I glance at my watch and roll my eyes theatrically. ‘Jeez!’ Jeez? I’ve never said that in my life before. ‘Better be off. On another job. Busy day.’

He opens his mouth, the puzzled expression not leaving his face.

But I hurry away before he can reprimand me further.

By the time I’ve walked to the police station and back, I’m a bit late to meet Jack. But he’s waiting at the table nearest the door, his expression serious as he taps out a text on his phone, a pint of beer untouched in front of him. His dark blond hair flops in his face and he keeps pushing it back with one hand, distracted, his brows knotted together. I’m struck again by how handsome he is. Not as striking as Rory, I think loyally, but still a very attractive man. Once, during a drunken chat when we were first getting to know each other, Jack let slip that he’d broken a few hearts before falling in love with Finn three years ago. As a result Finn could be a little possessive at times.

‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ I say, as I slide into the seat opposite him.

He looks up, his face brightening when he sees it’s me. ‘About time. Thought you’d been arrested for taking that card from the Wilsons’ garden.’

‘Ruthgow wasn’t happy. You know what he’s like.’

He rolls his eyes. ‘He’s so intense. Isn’t he up for retirement yet? He looks like he’s going to croak any minute.’ He clutches his throat and puts on a raspy thirty-fags-a-day voice: ‘You know this is the only information I can give you on the record.’

‘He’s not yet sixty. You make him sound like he’s about to get a telegram from the Queen any minute.’ I get up. ‘I’m just going to the bar. Do you want anything?’

He jumps up. ‘I’ll get it. You sit down. You could do with a rest.’ He grins. ‘After all, you’re getting on a bit yourself now.’

‘Oh, fuck off.’ I laugh, but I sit down anyway. My feet are hurting in my new boots. I’d bought them for a steal at a vintage shop after falling in love with them, but they’re half a size too small.

‘What do you want?’

I contemplate asking for a glass of wine but settle on a Coke. When I left London I promised myself I wouldn’t drink during the week. My glass of wine a night was turning into two, and then three. It’s hard to keep to my no-drinking rule sometimes, though.

Jack strides to the bar, attracting stares from a blonde woman at a nearby table in his well-cut suit. He gets paid a pittance at the paper, but he always seems able to afford nice clothes. I don’t know where he gets the money from.

He returns with my drink and two packets of spicy crisps that he knows are my favourite.