*
The first person I see outside is Quinn. He must have been at the back. He makes a face. ‘I’d like to know how Shore got in. I’ll get Gis on it.’
‘What I’d like to know is who the fuck issued that appeal for witnesses? Was it you?’
He hesitates, clearly trying to decide whether to balls it out or fess up.
‘The hacks were going to link the cases whatever we did so I thought it was worth seeing if all this new publicity jogged someone’s memory –’
Which is actually a very good point. Not that I’m in the mood to say so.
‘Even though you know I promised Gardiner he would have time to warn Hannah’s parents? Even though you know damn well you should check something like that with me first?’
‘But you said –’
‘I said to keep an eye on things –’
‘You actually said “pick things up” –’
‘– I did not say make significant decisions without asking me. I was only at the John Rad, for fuck’s sake, not the bloody moon – you could have called – texted.’
He’s gone very red now, and I realize – too late – that Gislingham is standing a few yards away. I shouldn’t bollock Quinn in front of lower ranks. You just don’t.
‘I thought,’ says Quinn, lowering his voice, ‘that you’d prefer me not to disturb you. What with the kid and your wife and everything.’
And everything.
You’re already thinking ‘classic transference’, and you’re not wrong. But knowing it and doing something about it aren’t the same. And now – not for the first time – I wonder whether my real problem with Quinn is that he’s too much like me. Apart from the flashy dress sense and the serial shagging, of course.
‘OK,’ I say eventually. ‘Go and see Gardiner and apologize.’
‘Can’t I just call him?’
‘No. You can’t. And get Challow moving on those bloody DNA results.’ And then I take a deep breath and turn round. ‘What do you want, Gislingham?’
He looks embarrassed. ‘Sorry to barge in, boss, but the incident room has just taken a call after the news broadcast. It was from Beth Dyer.’
***
Quinn was right; it doesn’t take long. By lunchtime, Erica Somer has tracked down both a nephew and a niece of the first Mrs William Harper. But when she goes to the incident room to look for Quinn, what she finds is Fawley. He’s standing staring at the pinboard. The photos. The map. The images of the two young women and the two young boys. The living and the dead. He seems lost in thought. Absent.
‘Sorry, sir,’ she says, still slightly unsure around him. ‘I was looking for the DS –’
He turns to look at her, but it’s a few seconds, she can tell, before he actually registers who she is.
‘PC Somer.’
‘Yes, sir.’
It’s not something she could ever tell Quinn, but Fawley is far and away the best-looking man in the station. The fact that he seems entirely unaware of it only adds to the attraction. Quinn’s exactly the opposite – he operates with some sort of bat-like sex echo system, constantly sending out signals and seeing how they bounce back. Fawley, on the other hand, is entirely self-contained. She doesn’t have Quinn’s level of self-confidence but she usually gets some sort of reaction from men. Not from this one though.
‘I was thinking about Vicky,’ he says. ‘About what sort of family she must have come from that she doesn’t want them to know she’s OK.’
‘She may have run away from home. Which could be why no one reported her missing.’
He turns to stare at the girl’s photo again. ‘You’re probably right.’ Then he turns back. ‘Sorry, you didn’t come here to listen to me thinking aloud. What was it?’
She holds up a piece of paper. A print-out.
‘Last night,’ she says, ‘I suddenly had this hunch. If Harper’s first wife came from Birmingham then she might still have family there. And if the “John” Mrs Gibson thought was Harper’s son also had a Birmingham accent –’
He’s there already. ‘Then it might be a relative of the wife.’
‘Right, sir. So I checked and it could be.’ She hands him the paper. ‘Nancy Harper had a niece and a nephew. The niece, Noreen, is a doctor’s receptionist and lives in Berwick. But the nephew, Donald Walsh, teaches history at a small private school in Banbury. He’s fifty-three. I’m trying to get a picture but on the face of it he fits the description.’
Fawley looks at the print-out. ‘This is good work, Somer. So your theory is it wasn’t John, but Don?’
‘I think so, sir. It would be easy for Mrs Gibson to have heard the name wrong. I don’t think her hearing is all that great.’
‘So do you have an address for this Donald Walsh?’
‘Yes, sir. I’ve tried calling, but no answer. I think someone should go up there – given it’s so close. Even if he’s away, we may find out something from the neighbours. How often he comes to Oxford. If he and Harper are in touch.’
‘And that’s why you were looking for DS Quinn? To get that arranged?’
She wills herself not to blush, but she’s not sure if it works. ‘Yes, sir. So he can organize someone.’
‘Well, he’s not going to be back for an hour or so. And DC Everett’s still at the hospital, so why don’t you find DC Gislingham and tell him I’ve OK’d it.’
‘What, you mean, I should go?’
He looks just a tiny bit irritated now. ‘With Gislingham, yes. There isn’t a problem, is there?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Good. Let me know what you find out.’
***
Phone interview with Beth Dyer
4 May 2017, 2.12 p.m.
On the call, DC A. Baxter
AB: Miss Dyer, it’s DC Andrew Baxter, Thames Valley. I believe you called the station after the press conference?
BD: Oh yes. Thanks for getting back to me.
AB: Did you have something to tell us?
BD: Yes. It’s, well, it’s a bit difficult.
AB: If it helps, we’ll do our best to keep what you tell us confidential. But that rather depends on what it is you have to say.
BD: That policeman on the TV, Detective Inspector Fawley. He said that the body you found was Hannah.
AB: I don’t believe that’s yet been officially confirmed –
BD: But it’s her, isn’t it?
AB: [pause]
Yes, Miss Dyer. We believe so. Mr Gardiner has been informed.
BD: How did he take it?
AB: I’m not able to discuss that, Miss Dyer. Was there anything else?
BD: Sorry, that must have sounded awful. I’m a bit all over the place right now. It’s just that – well, that’s why I called. It was about Rob.
AB: I see. I believe that when Mrs Gardiner first went missing you told us you thought her husband might be having an affair?
BD: Yes, I did. But it’s not about that. Well, not directly.
AB: So was he having an affair or wasn’t he?
BD: I don’t think he was. Not then. But it started pretty soon after. That childminder – nanny. Whatever it is she calls herself. Pippa something. I saw them with Toby about three weeks ago in Summertown. I reckon they’re definitely an item – she was all over him. Men can be so gullible.
AB: And how does this relate to the disappearance of Mrs Gardiner?
BD: I’m getting to that. When it all happened, you said – the police – that she’d disappeared at Wittenham. Only now you say she never left Oxford at all.
AB: That does appear to be the case.
BD: So how did her car get there? How did Toby get there?
AB: Well, clearly whoever was responsible for the death of Mrs Gardiner must have taken the car to Wittenham, knowing that was where she was supposed to be that day. To make us think she was there. As a decoy.