Behind Closed Doors (2 page)

‘Tell me about your friend,' I said.

The girl stayed perched on the edge of the chair. Her fingers worked nervously through her hair.

‘Her name's Rebecca Townsend. She's my best friend.'

‘And Rebecca's not at home?'

She shrugged. ‘I don't know. Her parents won't let me talk to her.'

‘Why not?'

‘They say she's ill.'

‘That's reasonable,' I said. ‘You don't want to catch a bug.'

The girl shook her head. Her toes danced on the threadbare carpet. ‘They're lying. Becky was fine before she disappeared. We had lunch together. Then in the afternoon she was gone.'

‘Gone how?'

‘Didn't answer her phone. Didn't text. Didn't show up at college next day.'

‘Did you call her house? ‘

‘Yeah. They said she was ill.'

‘Bugs strike suddenly.' Dr Reassuring.

‘So suddenly that she can't even text me? Becky would text at her own funeral. And she's been gone a week now. It's like she never existed.'

‘And her parents say she's ill?'

‘They say she's got some kind of virus.'

‘When did you last speak to them?'

‘Yesterday. Every day. They just give me the same story. When I go round to the house they won't let me in.'

I gave her a grin. ‘So you decided to sick a detective on them?'

This girl was cute. If I had a daughter she'd be like this. There were always people needed sicking. I clasped my hands and sat forward, gave her the let's-slow-down sigh that says everything's going to work out. This is your dad talking. Or, rather, your granddad.

‘Sadie,' I said, ‘if your friend's parents say she's ill then that's probably the case. You can't ask a detective agency to check them out. Why not believe them?'

Sadie closed her eyes like she was teaching a slightly stupid child its multiplication table.

‘I told you,' she said. ‘They're lying. Becky hasn't texted me in a
week
. Even if she was ill she'd do that.'

Sadie was sticking with this text thing. To teenagers, texting is breathing. If you're not doing it you're dead. The girl pushed her hands through her hopeless hair. The cami stretched to reveal more bare midriff. Mamma did a jig. I noticed that her navel was pierced with three gold rings that glittered above the pants. What were her parents thinking, sending her out like this? That wasn't my problem, though. I felt kind of sorry for the kid but I had reports to pull together, invoices to post. I needed to lead this thing towards an exit.

‘Sadie,' I said, ‘whatever's happening with your friend there'll be a simple explanation. No reason to hire an investigation agency.'

‘So what should I do?' Her eyes were pleading.

‘You should leave it to her parents. That's what they're for. Whatever the problem is they'll sort it out.'

‘Not her father,' she said. ‘Becky hates him.'

‘I bet you hate your own parents sometimes.'

Her eyes flashed again. ‘Are you listening at all?' she said. ‘Something's wrong in Becky's house. Her father is a creep. There's things going on that Becky never even tells me.'

This was getting tackier by the minute. Time to change direction. ‘What do your parents say, Sadie?'

‘The same as you. That I shouldn't interfere.'

I raised my hands.

The girl's shoulders dropped. I don't know what fantasy had gone through her mind while she searched Yellow Pages, but there was no TV hero waiting to charge in to rescue her friend – who almost certainly didn't need rescuing in the first place. And I could tell Sadie was beginning to get a sense of things. She'd get the same answer at any other agency in town, except maybe George Giannetti's. But I decided that she didn't need Giannetti's card after all. Giannetti was exactly the guy to take her to the cleaners.

‘Sometimes it's the families,' she said.

I looked at her.

‘You read it in the papers. Kids abused, murdered. All along it's the parents. No one helps until it's too late. Teachers. Social workers. Police. They don't want to know.'

‘Yes,' I said. ‘But private investigators don't fill the gap.' Simple truth, even if saying it didn't make me feel better. ‘You said there was an adult.'

She nodded. ‘An old lady. She and Becky are kind of friends. Becky helps her around the house.'

‘And this lady's spoken to you?'

‘Yeah. She's really mad at Becky's parents. Says they need a good talking to.'

Kind of interesting. We were well into the shadows at the back of the bric-a-brac shop now. Despite knowing better I found myself rummaging.

‘What's this lady's name?'

‘Gina. Gina Redding.'

‘Why exactly is Gina worried?'

‘Same as me. Becky hasn't been in touch with her and her mother is giving her the cold shoulder.'

The thing sounded odd. But I knew there'd be an explanation. Eagle Eye wasn't in the social services business. Specifically, we didn't work for kids. We worked for clients with a little capital to back up their concerns. That's why I was going to have to show Sadie the door. Knowing my luck of course she'd be back in a week throwing the newspapers in my face. The ones with her friend's picture under eighty-point headlines. I made a decision. A quick chat with this lady friend would do no harm. I'd persuade the woman to talk to Sadie and maybe even to Sadie's parents. Then it was up to them to sort things out. I asked Sadie if she had a telephone number for Gina Redding.

The girl's eyes brightened. I realised that deep down she'd expected to get the brush-off anywhere she went. She'd just been on a fishing trip and Eagle Eye had been first on the hook. I was going to have to check that Yellow Pages wording again.

‘You're taking the case?' she asked.

I sat back and laughed. Couldn't help it. Miss Comedienne. I got hold of myself and pulled my face back to discouraging.

‘No,' I said, ‘we're not taking the case. It's like I told you, Sadie. The agency only takes commissions from adults. What I'm going to do is talk to Mrs Redding. See if there's some advice we can give. Then the two of you will need to sort it out between you. Without involving detective agencies.'

Sadie didn't argue further. Opted for satisfied. She didn't have a telephone number but gave me an address on the south side of Hampstead Heath. She also gave me her own mobile number which I wasn't going to need. Finally we were through. I stood up and she followed suit. I gestured and she moved ahead of me towards the door.

‘One thing,' I said.

The girl turned.

‘Thirties is not old,' I said. ‘You'll be thirty yourself one day.'

She gave me her diamond smile.

‘Sure,' she grinned. ‘It's barely middle-aged.'

I gave her my best shit-eating grin and opened the door. Lucy was behind her desk watching us, desperate to hear what this was all about, but I decided that a little suffering was in order. She was the one who'd set the girl onto me. I asked her to show our guest out and by the time she got back I was locked behind my door, chasing paperwork.

I hunkered down behind my roll-top and attacked the paperwork again. I had a client-report for a sportswear chain that had hired us to watch one of its outlet managers. A second report for a private client: an airline pilot curious to know why his wife was always out when he called from halfway around the world. The sportswear chain got the evidence they were expecting and the airline pilot got something he wasn't. Another week's bric-a-brac to file away in the back of our shop.

I hit a button and the inkjet spat the reports out on agency proformas. Something tangible to deliver with the always-tangible final invoices. With luck the invoices might induce a transfusion into our bank account. Then we could be friends with our utilities companies, maybe even pay Lucy's wages. I couldn't remember if we were two weeks behind or three. Lucy handled that stuff. She brought her paycheques to sign when she knew they wouldn't bounce.

I filed the case folders, grabbed the reports and went out to find envelopes. Lucy was messing about at her desk. It was already after twelve and normally she'd be gone. Most afternoons we managed without a receptionist or accountant. Just me and Shaughnessy, in and out. I sensed her watching as I rooted in her stationery cupboard.

Lucy's got a way of watching you that gets you on your toes. Eventually you drop something or spill your drink and when you try to blame her she closes up her smart eyes and shrugs, as if fools are better tolerated than reprimanded. Lucy's got a pair of eyes would have any male acting the fool. Without the eyes she'd be just a punk who'd slipped in a dye factory. Her eyes made her a punk you wanted to grab hold of. For us the grabbing days were over but her looks could still trip me like a drunk's shoelaces.

Lucy quit pretending to tidy up and sat up on her desk watching me while I stuck on the address labels and stamped the envelopes. I stayed cool. Only two of the Queen's heads finished upside down.

‘What's up?' I said.

‘Has your intercom stopped working, Eddie, or am I going deaf?'

I gave her shocked. ‘Were you trying to eavesdrop?'

‘Someone has to look out for you.'

‘What can I say?' I said. ‘The intercom's shot. Maybe I'll just bug my office so you can listen whenever you want.' I slammed the stationery cabinet. ‘Or did you already do that?'

‘That's for you to find out. See how good you are.'

‘You know how good I am.'

She looked at me. Her hair was so bright we could have saved on lighting. This month's colour was red.

I went back to switch off my computer. Her voice came after me.

‘So what's the story on Miss Belly-Button?'

‘Nothing's the story on Miss Belly-Button. She's seventeen. I sent her packing.'

‘You took an awful long time to send her packing, Eddie.'

I came back out. ‘She took a lot of persuading. I thought I was going to need a crowbar to get her out of the door. That's why I employ you, Lucy. To filter undesirables.'

‘Is that what it says in my job description?'

‘How do I know? I've never read your job description. Just ad-lib. Do what's needed.'

‘Me neither.'

‘Neither what?'

‘Read a job description. And I was ad-libbing.'

I gave her a severe look.

‘You sent her in on purpose? How did you know she wasn't dangerous?'

Lucy's eyes closed up again. ‘Actually, Eddie, a hornet was what came to mind.'

I wagged a finger. ‘I wonder about you, Lucy. After all these years I still wonder.'

‘All these years, Eddie? You make us sound so old.'

I looked at her. Age was a touchy subject today. I gave her worried. ‘How old do I look, Luce? No one would say middle-aged, would they? Be honest.'

‘Better not,' Lucy said. ‘You wouldn't like it.'

I gave her my shit-eating grin. ‘Why did we ever split?' I asked.

‘Because if we hadn't we'd have killed each other. Or you'd have had a heart attack. At your age.'

I chilled the grin. ‘This isn't the way to get the story on little Miss B-B,' I said.

‘So what is the way?'

‘Come have lunch. I'll treat you to a sandwich and diet-something. Then we can find somewhere quiet to canoodle the rest of the afternoon, see if we can find some more interesting belly-buttons.'

Lucy's eyes stayed closed up. ‘And what about your lady-love? What's she going to say about you eloping with the office girl?'

Arabel. Now there was a girl with plenty of belly-button. If I was worried about heart attacks that's where I'd start.

‘You're right,' I said. ‘We'll need to be finished by three.'

‘We'd be pushed for time,' Lucy said. ‘Better stick to the sandwich.'

Ever the practical one. But a sandwich sounded good.

Shaughnessy was out so I flipped the door sign as we left. The old-fashioned IN/OUT card behind the glass adds colour, even if the BACK SOMETIME SOON has as much credibility as a plumber's promise. We walked along the street to Connie's.

Connie Papachristou ran an eatery that served kebabs and sandwiches on home-baked bread two doors up. The weather was still too cold for his pavement tables so his customers were all squeezed into eight tables jammed down the side of the counter inside. We got the last table in the back and Connie came over to give the special attention warranted by his biggest tab. Connie always put on a good face but he was getting more uneasy by the month. If Eagle Eye went broke before we'd settled he'd go under. The way I saw it, since the problem was mostly caused by his extortionate prices in the first place, it was a case of what goes around comes around. Connie must have been hoping to even things up a little today because he took away a distinct frown in lieu of cash.

Lucy opted for a baguette and diet Coke whilst I went for a Mediterranean vegetable and feta cheese monster with a coffee, extra cream. When Connie brought the stuff over I filled Lucy in on our precocious visitor. The missing girl intrigued her.

‘Are you going to take a look?' she asked.

I shook my head, mouth full of sandwich.

‘I'm going to have a chat with this Redding woman,' I said. ‘That's it. A kind of mercy thing.'

‘For Sadie?'

‘For me. The girl might come back. Remind me to write you a list of undesirables to keep out of our door.'

‘Then we'd end up with no clients,' Lucy said.

Good point.

‘So what's going on?' she asked. ‘The thing sounds kind of strange.'

‘Sure it's strange,' I said. ‘But there's strange with money and strange without. We need the
with
-type. Helps pay your wages.'

‘You don't pay my wages. Not for four weeks.'

Always the smart answer. Four already?

I kept quiet, waited for her to get back to the missing girl. Lucy kept quiet longer. I broke first.

‘Lots of things are strange,' I said, ‘until the blindingly obvious explanation turns up.'

‘So what's the blindingly obvious explanation for this missing girl?'

‘Haven't a clue. And I doubt if we're going to find out. This Redding woman will think I'm nuts coming to see her on some kid's say-so. She probably won't even talk to me.'

I got Directory Enquiries on my phone. They texted back a number. I hit return and dialled the old lady. If no one answered I'd call it quits.

Life isn't like that. The call was picked up on the first ring. A woman's voice, gravely and querulous at the same time. Not the kind of voice to be reassured by talking to a private investigator. So I identified myself only as a friend of Sadie Bannister and repeated what the girl had told me about concerns for her friend.

If Gina Redding was surprised by the cold call she hid it well. Waded right in on the topic. In three seconds flat I was hearing what I didn't want to hear. Namely that there really was some kind of problem with this kid Rebecca. Suddenly we were jawing like she'd known me a hundred years. Wanted to know what we should do. We! Bang went my afternoon canoodling with Lucy. I shot Lucy a grin and told the old woman I'd drive over for a chat. Lucy looked smug as I cut the connection but I didn't rise to it. We finished our drinks and split before Connie worked up the nerve to ask for a donation. Lucy told me she'd see me tomorrow and headed home. I headed for my car.