“It wasn’t me, Inspector.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Positive.”
Resnick let him have a moment of time; not too long. “Functions like that, Christmas Eve, it’s easy to forget …”
“I assure you …”
“I mean, at first you said you hadn’t danced, but then, when you thought about it, you remembered that you had.”
“Detective Inspector …”
“Mr. Clarke, it’s important that we compile as accurate a picture of what happened yesterday evening as possible. You realize the potential seriousness of the situation, I’m sure.”
Clarke shifted his stance so that his back was towards the kitchen door. “As it happens I did give somebody a lift home …”
“I see.”
“Dana, actually.”
“Dana Matthieson.”
“Yes. She lives not so far away from me.”
“So must Nancy then.”
“I suppose so. I really don’t know.”
“And you didn’t see her when you drove Dana home?”
“No.”
“What happened exactly? I mean, did you just drop her off outside, did she invite you in, coffee maybe? What?”
The pause was too long. “Outside,” Clarke said. “I dropped her off outside.”
“And she’ll confirm that? I mean, if necessary?”
“We didn’t go directly there,” Clarke said, voice lowered, “we stopped off at my place on the way.”
“For coffee,” Resnick said.
“A nightcap, yes.”
“And then you drove her home?”
“Not exactly, no.”
“Not exactly?”
“She decided to walk.”
“Wasn’t that, well, a little odd? I mean, having accepted a lift from you in the first place.”
“Perhaps she wanted to clear her head.”
“Is that what she said?”
“I can’t remember.”
“You can’t recall what reason she gave for wanting to walk home after accepting a lift?”
“No.”
“So you had, in fact, no idea that she got home all right?”
“I assumed …”
“Of course. People do. But her friend, Nancy Phelan, seemingly didn’t.”
“I told you, Inspector, I know nothing about that. Nothing about that at all. I may have noticed her once or twice in the course of the evening, talking with Dana. At least, I assume it was her. But later, no. I’m sorry. I wish I could be of more help.”
“When do you think you’ll be back down here, sir? In the city.”
“We’d planned to stay here until after the New Year.”
“There are some addresses we still haven’t been able to track down,” Resnick said. “You’ve no objection if we ask your assistant for her help?”
“Yvonne? No, of course not. The firm will do anything it can.”
“And you, Mr. Clarke? Yourself?”
“Of course, but I really don’t see …”
“Thank you, Mr. Clarke. Thanks for your time.”
When Andrew Clarke went back through the flagstoned kitchen, seeking out some fifteen-year-old malt, his wife remarked that for some reason he seemed to be sweating, She hoped he wasn’t coming down with something, a cold.
Divine’s back was aching, sitting in the same position too long, asking the same questions. Naylor had been out in search of a takeaway and returned empty handed, everywhere shut tight as an old maid’s arse. Even the mints had run out.
“Oh, her with the dress and the legs,” a voice was saying at the other end of his phone. “You kidding? Course I remember her. What about her?”
There was a moment when Dana arrived back at the flat when she was certain Nancy would be there. It lasted only as long as it took to push the front door closed behind her, slip the catch on the lock, and feel the emptiness settle round her shoulders like a shroud.
Twelve
“Another cup of tea?”
“Say what?”
“Another cup of tea?”
Gary reached out and turned the TV down, unable to hear Michelle from the kitchen above the roar of pre-recorded laughter.
“Tea?”
By that time she was in the doorway, ski pants and sweater, and even though the sweater hung loose he could see how she was getting her figure back after Natalie. See: he knew. Strands of hair hung loose across her face. Gary wanted to give her a look, the look towards the stairs, but he knew what she would say. Karl’s this minute dropped off; the baby’ll be awake soon anyway.
“Gary?”
So, all right, what was wrong with down here? Least, in front of what was left of the fire, they’d keep warm.
“C’m here,” he said.
“What for?”
But she knew the grin, the way it was meant to make her feel. “I’ve got the kettle on,” she said.
“Then take it off.”
“Oh, Gary, I don’t know.”
“Well, I do. Come on.” Winking. “While it’s hot.”
Pushing the hair out of her eyes, Michelle went back into the kitchen and switched the kettle off. She’d been so pleased when Gary had come home, late on Christmas Eve, relieved, she would have made love to him there and then, but all he’d wanted was to carry on about the bastard coppers, the bastard law, bastards at the Housing whose fault it all was anyway. Hadn’t even wanted to see the kids. Ask after Karl. Take a look at his face.
She hadn’t told Gary about that. Not any of it. The social worker, visit to the doctor, none of it. It would only make more trouble. He couldn’t stand it, Gary couldn’t, not ever, every Tom, Dick, and Harry coming round from Social Services, barging into the place as though they owned it, telling him how to bring up his own kids.
“Get us a decent place,” that was what he’d said last time. “Get us a decent place and then we’ll bring ’em up decent, you see.”
But what if they don’t, Michelle had wanted to ask? What if we have to stay here? What then?
“Michelle? You coming or what?” When she got back into the room, he had switched off the television, turned out the light, pushed the settee closer to the fire. He was leaning back against the far end of it, legs stretched out, slightly parted. Those jeans on, no way she couldn’t tell he was excited.
“Well?”
Forcing a smile on to her face, she started towards him; if only she could get the memory of him hitting Karl out of her mind, it might be all right.
He was kissing her, tongue pushing against her teeth, one hand reaching under her sweater when Lynn Kellogg knocked sharply on the door.
Lynn had talked to Dana earlier, back at the station, drinking tea and trying not to mind that the smoke from the other woman’s cigarettes kept drifting into her face, irritating her eyes. What is she, Lynn thought? Six years older than me? Seven? One of those round faces, not unlike her own, in the right circumstances they were full of life; dark eyes with an energy, a glow. But sitting there, on and on about Nancy, the same details, facts, suspicions, what Dana had looked was heavy-featured, exhausted, her face flabby and pale.
“Isn’t there a friend you could stay with?” Lynn had asked. “Just for tonight. Rather than being on your own.”
But Dana had insisted, she had to be there, by the telephone when Nancy rang, by the door when she walked back in.
“You think she’s all right, don’t you?” Dana had said suddenly, clutching Lynn’s arm. “You do think she’s all right?
It wasn’t yet twenty-four hours; there was still time for her to turn up unannounced, unharmed. A postcard. Phone call. I just had to get away, Sorry if you were worried. Chance came along and I took it. It happened all the time. People taking off on an impulse, a whim. Paris, London, or Rome. Those weren’t the incidents Lynn had to deal with, not closely, not often. The twenty-four hours would stretch to forty-eight and if there’d been no word from her by then, no sign … Well, there was still time.
Although the lights seemed to be out, she could hear voices inside; reversing her gloved hand, she knocked again.
“Yeh?” It was Gary who finally came to the door, still pushing one side of his shirt back down into his jeans. Behind him, Michelle had switched on the light.