Rush of Blood (15 page)

Sue had been waiting nearly twenty minutes at a corner table in a wine and tapas bar just off the Strand. Though the waiter
had enquired more than once, she insisted that she was ‘fine for the moment’ with the glass of tap water she had asked for
when she’d arrived. She resented his persistence, the malevolent glances from behind the bar, almost as much as she resented
being kept waiting.

Being made to look as though she had been stood up.

It was probably the teacher in her – her days conveniently marked out by timetables and the ringing of bells – but the truth
was she’d always hated people who could not be bothered to turn up when they were supposed to. People could waste their own
time if they wanted to, but it was rude and arrogant to waste somebody else’s and she would never dream of doing it herself.

The courtesy of kings. Wasn’t that what they called it?

Ten minutes later, after several more pitying looks from the waiter, she was on the point of leaving when Marina came rushing
in, flapping and flustered. She said, ‘I’m
so
sorry,’ and ‘
Oh
my God,’ and talked about delays on the trains coming north while she struggled out of her shabby-chic overcoat.

‘It’s fine,’ Sue said. ‘Let’s have a drink.’

‘Haven’t you got one?’

‘I didn’t want to start without you.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Marina said, sitting down. ‘I would have caught up.’

‘Shall we get some wine?’

‘I think I’m going to have a
massive
gin and tonic, actually.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Sue said. She signalled to the waiter who, as might have been predicted, took his time about coming across
to take their order. When he had finally turned away from the table, Sue said, ‘You look fantastic.’

‘Thanks, so do you.’

‘Oh …’

‘What?’

Sue pointed. ‘Your bag …’

Marina lifted up her red leather handbag and smiled. ‘What about it?’

‘I’ve got the identical bag,’ Sue said. ‘You’ve seen it.’ Marina looked confused. ‘I had it with me the night we all went
for dinner at Angie and Barry’s. Don’t you remember, you were talking about it, saying that you liked it or something?’

Marina shook her head. ‘That must have been Angie,’ she said. She shrugged and placed the bag back on the floor. ‘I’ve had
this ages.’

The waiter brought their drinks across and left menus which they seemed happy enough to ignore for the time being. The compulsory
background music – some kind of tango-meets-electronica thing – was coming from speakers nearby, but it wasn’t so intrusive
that they had to shout across the table to make themselves heard. It was one of the reasons Sue had chosen the place.

‘Talking about Angie,’ Marina said. She leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially, as though Angie, or someone
who knew her, might be sitting nearby. ‘Why didn’t you ask her?’

‘No big mystery,’ Sue said. ‘I thought it might be a long way for her to come, that’s all.’

‘Oh, right.’ Marina looked a little disappointed.

‘Easier with just the two of us.’ Sue took a sip of her drink. ‘Probably best not to mention it when we see her though. I
don’t want to upset her.’

‘Course not.’

‘You and Dave still all right for next week?’

‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ Marina said. She leaned forward again. ‘So, come on, I’m dying to hear all about your visit from the boys
in blue.’

‘It was a bit strange, to tell you the truth.’

‘Really?’ Her eyes were wide. ‘How many of them were there? Men, women?’

‘Just one woman,’ Sue said. ‘Quite young, but very serious.’ She flicked a fingernail against the side of her glass. ‘She
asked us what we thought about the girl.’

Marina was drinking. She swallowed fast. ‘The girl who went
missing?
’

‘The dead girl.’

‘Why the hell did she want to know that?’

‘That’s what Ed said. We thought it was just going to be a few quick questions. When we’d last seen her, if we’d noticed anyone
suspicious, that kind of thing.’

‘That’s exactly what she told us too,’ Marina said. ‘When she rang. A few questions. Bloody hell …’

‘I told her about the man we saw.’

‘What man?’

‘That time at the Oyster Bar. We saw a man talking to the girl’s mother, down on the pavement, remember?’

‘Yeah, vaguely …’

‘So they’ll probably ask you about that, ask you for a description or whatever. You remember? He was tall, fit-looking. Short
dark hair and tattoos on his arms …’

Marina was nodding, but she still looked shocked. ‘“What did you think of the girl”? What on earth did you say? I mean, what
did she
expect
you to say, for God’s sake?’

‘We were both a bit thrown, to be honest,’ Sue said.

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘Actually, I don’t think she liked Ed very much.’

Marina took a second. ‘Really?’

‘I might have imagined it, but there was a bit of an edge, you know?’

‘Maybe she fancied him,’ Marina said. ‘Some women can get like that.’

Sue shook her head. ‘I can usually tell.’

Marina smiled and drained her glass.

‘So, when’s
your
interview?’ Sue asked.

‘Tomorrow,’ Marina said. ‘I’d better warn Dave that we’re in for a grilling.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine—’ Sue’s mobile began to ring and she dug it out of her bag. She glanced at the screen, looked up and
said, ‘Angie. Her interview was today, so I’m sure she’s desperate to tell me how it went.’ She pressed the key to drop the
call. ‘I’ll ring her back tomorrow. I wouldn’t mind betting she calls you in a minute …’

Marina took her own phone out and put it on the table. They stared at it for a few seconds, but it didn’t ring. They laughed
and decided to get a bottle of wine and, when the waiter came over, they ordered bread and a few plates to share: olives and
manchego cheese, chorizo in cider, artichoke hearts.

‘If we’re going to keep drinking,’ Marina said, ‘we’d better eat something.’

When Marina stood up to go to the ladies, Sue said, ‘You changed your hair again.’

Marina’s hands moved to her hair, and as she clawed fingers through it she turned to look at herself in the ornate mirror
on the wall above their table. ‘I wasn’t sure about the blonde bits in the end,’ she said. ‘Went back to the red.’

‘You’ve lost some weight too.’

‘I’ve been going to the gym,’ Marina said, a hand dropping to her stomach.

‘Looks good.’

‘Well, I need to put the work in if I’m going to keep up with you.’

Sue laughed and when Marina asked why, she explained how Ed was always banging on about the way women compliment one another.
‘It’s one of the
funny
routines he trots out now and again,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘How blokes never do it, you know? How you’ll never catch
a hairy-arsed bloke saying to his mate, “You look great in that,” or “Have you been working out?” whereas women do it all
the time.’

‘Because
we’re
not petrified in case someone thinks we’re gay.’

‘Right, but Ed says women deliberately play up to that. You know, the way they dance together in clubs, pretending to be lesbians
when they’re not.’

Marina laughed. ‘I bet he likes to watch though, doesn’t he?’

‘Don’t all men like watching two women?’ Sue looked up at Marina and smiled. ‘Have you checked out the history on Dave’s internet
browser lately?’

‘God, no,’ Marina said. ‘First, he’d know exactly how to hide it and even if he didn’t, I don’t really think I want to know.’

‘Probably very sensible.’

‘What about Ed?’

‘Well, he’s not quite as careful as Dave, put it that way.’

‘Really?’ Marina raised her eyebrows, but Sue showed no inclination to say any more on the subject.

The waiter was hovering with the wine. Marina asked him where the toilets were and he waved vaguely towards a staircase at
the back of the restaurant. When she stepped away from the table, Sue nodded at the red leather handbag and said, ‘I still
can’t believe that.’

Marina took a final glance at herself in the mirror. ‘Great minds,’ she said.

Jenny was taking her time over the first draft of
Wilson Homicide Interviews: 2
. She was thinking hard about how best to describe that day’s interviewees, their demeanours, their reactions. While all her
questions had been answered eventually, she was in no doubt that both of them had been distinctly rattled at various points
during the
questioning, even if the husband had not been as good as his wife at hiding it.

Barry Finnegan certainly had quite a temper on him.

Sitting there while he ranted and raved, Jenny felt a quiet thrill that had stayed with her the rest of the day. She must
have been doing something right, she knew that, to have got under his skin to that degree. On top of all that, she was pleased
that she had not reacted to his jibes about her lack of experience, the taunts about her stupid questions.

‘
You want to be at the sharp end
,’ Simmons had said to her once, ‘
you’d better get used to plenty of abuse
.’

She was used to it, to taking it and showing nothing. You couldn’t let them in, not for a second, couldn’t show them any chink.
So, she had sat there quietly, loving every moment of it, while Barry Finnegan sweated and spat like a balding bull terrier.

Thinking: all day long, mate. All day long …

As it happened, Angela Finnegan had succeeded in calming her old man down eventually, to the point where Jenny had been able
to ask a few more questions. He had listened and answered like a good boy. He had made no comment as to whether he found the
questions stupid or not.

Yes, they had talked about the girl’s disappearance with the other couples.

No, they did not remember seeing Patti Lee Wilson talking to any man.

They had been driving a red Nissan Altima.

Jenny saved the document and sat listening to the noise coming from the living room. The nursing student had invited a couple
of friends round for dinner. She had told Jenny she was more than welcome to join them, but with an expression that said she’d
be happier if Jenny declined the offer. Now, Jenny wondered if she could maybe go out and have a last drink with them or something.
She looked at her watch. It was nearly eleven o’clock and she had the final interview tomorrow.

It had been a long day.

In the living room, one of the girls began laughing and someone clapped.

Jenny undressed quickly and slipped into bed; blissful between the clean sheets she had put on before leaving for work. She
lay there thinking that if she
did
get a chance to go to Florida, to work on the case with Detective Jeff Gardner … as a consultant for the Met or even as his
partner … that she fancied driving a Mustang …

A momentary lapse, that business in Sarasota.

A weird one-off, something to do with the heat maybe …

All of which
might
be trotted out by a desperate defence brief with his back to the wall, none of which would cut any ice with even the stupidest
jury and certainly not after the business eleven weeks later in Kent.

No excuses, second time around.

It’s strange, but despite how fast everything happened that afternoon in Siesta Village, and it was certainly quick, I sometimes
reimagine it in slow motion. You know, the way they’d show the key moments if they ever made the film? The way they
have
shown them in a dozen films about a dozen people who’ve done what I did.

A heart starting to race, that’s the usual soundtrack, isn’t it?

The blur of bars and shopfronts that comes into focus as I slow up and come abreast of the girl. Her face when she sees me.
Her face as she walks to the window when I wave her over. The water that sloshes in the bottle when I lift it up to show her.
The hand reaching for the door handle and pushing the door open from inside. The backside that settles into the seat and,
of course, the smile. Big, slow zoom in on that.
The girl might have been missing a few bits and pieces when brains were handed out, but her teeth were bloody perfect …

What was said, too. I go over that a fair bit. I can’t swear it’s absolutely the authentic dialogue, but it’s as accurate
as I can remember.

‘
So, where are you off to?
’

‘
I want to get the egg
.’

‘
Does your mum know where you are?
’

‘
Can you give me the money to get it?
’

‘
What kind of egg?
’

‘
A big egg. A chocolate egg wrapped in red
…’

‘
It’s too hot to be walking, so why don’t I give you a lift and maybe when we get there I can buy you the egg. How’s that?
’

‘
It’s not far. Walking’s good for you
.’

‘
Yes it is, but today’s far too hot to be out in the sun. Come on, I’ve got some water. Look
…’

Driving through drizzle, past Chislehurst and Swanley, I wondered what the conversation might be like this time. How much
going round in circles there might be. How much persuasion it would take. I hadn’t needed to work very hard with Amber-Marie,
which was why I was looking for the particular school whose postcode I’d programmed into the sat-nav before setting off. The
park where I knew those parents would be likely to take their kids at the end of the day.

Those particular kids.

Shitty weather or not, that first day I drove out to take a look at the place I was struck by how nice the countryside was.
There are plenty of places like the one I was after in London of course. There are plenty of those sorts of kids being taught
in bog-standard, inner-city schools, but it must be nicer for them where there’s a bit more green space than you can find
in Hackney or Walthamstow. A bit more calming, a lot less noisy and stressful, and that’s got to be good when you’re a child
with these sorts of problems.

Less busy too of course, which made it a whole lot handier for me.

I parked within sight of the exit and watched them come out at half
past three. Lots of parents, but I was expecting that. Not too many of these kids would be trusted to get the bus home. Then,
even though the weather wasn’t great, I followed a gaggle of mums – mostly mums, of course – and their children across to
the park.

They’re just like any other group of parents and kids in the end. The mums start to talk. They’re desperate for a bit of adult
conversation and who can blame them, the lives they’ve got? So they sit on benches and natter, they stand in clusters smoking,
they grab a few minutes’ peace while the kids entertain themselves.

While they run and climb and shout and stare and laugh.

While the odd one drifts a bit too close to the line of trees or wanders towards the very edge of the adventure playground.

Driving home, I decided that when it came to what I was going to say, I should probably just play it by ear. Something would
come to me. If you plan
everything
, you run the risk of what you say sounding … rehearsed, and I think a child can sense that. That first impression is crucial,
same as when you meet anyone really.

It’s all about what they see in your face.

Thinking back … nice and slow with that thumping-heart soundtrack … the electric window going down and her turning, eyes
wide when I call to her, I reckon Amber-Marie reacted to my smile every bit as much as I reacted to hers.