The video ended and Jack removed the memory stick from his laptop. He then found the biographical details Ridley had been sent by the dating agency. A note attached from Ridley said that the investigation had attempted to trace her identity via the national accountancy register but they found no one of her name, going back 15 years.
Given her real age, Jack wondered if they should have gone even further back. But perhaps they would have done, as the post-mortem had taken place some time ago. He made a note to check. He recalled Ridley saying to him in the past, ‘Never presume, Jack, always make sure’.
Jack was just about to insert the second memory stick into his laptop, which the note attached said was the CCTV surveillance footage. Again, Jack wondered how the hell Ridley had got access to it, unless a lawyer was representing him, and they would have been granted access to the evidence. But surely things hadn’t got that far. While he was pondering, his burner phone rang. He physically jumped up from the chair, searching his jacket pockets, then delving into his briefcase.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello, dear, mission accomplished. It will be with you this evening.’
Before Jack could say anything else, the call was cut off. He ran his fingers through his hair feeling a certain amount of panic. He had obviously given Sammy the burner phone number but not his address. How was Sammy going to deliver whatever it was? He would just have to wait.
‘Concentrate, concentrate, for fuck’s sake,’ he muttered to himself as he put the burner phone back into his briefcase and inserted the memory stick with the CCTV footage.
The video was poor quality and grainy. He could clearly see Ridley parking his Volvo car in the pub car park at precisely 7.52 p.m. according to the timer code at the top of the screen, and then, on another camera, he could see him entering the pub. It appeared to be quite an upmarket establishment, with a separate entrance for the restaurant. There was a fuzzy delay as the footage cut to Ridley exiting the pub at 8.45 p.m., indicating that he had been waiting for his date for just under an hour. He paused in the well-lit exit, perhaps searching for his car keys, before putting on his thick leather gloves and walking out into the car park. He did not appear to be inebriated, walking quite briskly, and then there was another delay as the footage picked Ridley up next to his Volvo, getting into the driver’s side and then pulling out of the car park. The video then jumped back to the coverage of his car in the car park, from the time he left it to the time he returned. Numerous other vehicles were seen entering and parking during the time Ridley was inside the pub. Although the whole of Ridley’s car wasn’t visible, it appeared that no one moved close to it or tampered with it.
The footage ended, leaving Jack none the wiser. He ran the footage again to double check that there had been no altering of the timer code. Ridley had claimed that he had no recollection of anything after he had left the pub, no memory of returning home, or where he had left his car. He had woken up in bed, still fully clothed, with a severe headache, feeling nauseous and confused. As it was a Saturday night and Ridley was off-duty he had vomited and returned to bed, sleeping for most of the following day. He woke numerous times on the Sunday feeling very sick and feverish and had not checked whether his car was in the garage or parked outside the house. Late that evening he had received a call to say that his vehicle had been found, and he was instructed to remain at home until Essex CID arrived. His vehicle had been impounded and was undergoing forensic testing.
Jack thumbed through the notes Ridley had made. He had asked to have a medical check as he was certain he had been given drugs. However, this was not done for a further forty-eight hours and therefore whatever he may have been given would not have shown up, as by this time he had eaten and digested two meals.
The doorbell rang and Jack almost jumped again. He hurried out of his office and down the stairs as Maggie came out to answer the door.
‘It’s OK; it’s a delivery for me,’ Jack said hastily, and Maggie turned back to the kitchen.
Sammy Taylor was wearing a pinstriped suit, and an immaculate white shirt and tie, and his face showed no trace of makeup. Jack had to catch his breath, as Sammy proffered a brown manila envelope.
‘Er, do you want to come in?’ Jack said falteringly.
‘No, dear, I don’t. I have a dinner engagement. I will make this fast as I hate to be late. There was quite a lot of data to record, so I had to use seven sticks, but it’s all there. They might not be in the right order, but once I’d opened their files I just kept going.’
‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure. Good night.’
Sammy picked up a silver-topped walking cane he had propped up against the porch, turned and slowly walked down the path before disappearing behind the hedge. Jack waited a few moments, then slowly eased around the hedge, trying to keep out of sight. He saw Sammy bleep open a Bentley saloon, but it was too far away for him to get a look at the licence plate before it drove off.
Jack hurried back into the house and up the stairs to his office, closing the door behind him. He had just tipped out the contents of the envelope when Maggie called up the stairs to say that dinner was ready. Jack closed his laptop and put everything back into the envelope before heading downstairs.
Penny was sitting at the table, a bottle of wine open in front of her. Maggie was eulogising about the chicken in the bag.
‘It came out perfectly cooked, Jack. You just cut open the bag! Will you carve while I get the vegetables?’
Jack agreed that it looked very tasty, dishing it out before pouring them all a glass of wine.
‘Who was that at the door?’ Maggie asked as they tucked in.
‘Just someone from the station delivering something for me. I might have to work for a while tonight.’
Penny turned to the baby monitor, hearing a noise. She smiled, as it was just Hannah turning in her sleep and giving a little grunt.
‘Can I ask you something, Mum? You know when you have your hair coloured, how long does it last before the old colour starts showing?’
‘Well, I’m not sure... it depends on how fast your hair grows, I think. It could be three or four weeks. But they have this new stuff that you just put along the roots where the grey starts to show, so you don’t have to have a complete re-colour.’
Maggie raised an eyebrow, wondering why on earth Jack wanted to know, and if perhaps he didn’t like his mother’s new blonde look. Maggie became even more bemused when Jack asked Penny which salon she had used. She replied that it was just a local hairdresser, and they had only recently reopened for customers after the Covid restrictions. She went on to say they were very good and not too expensive.
Maggie looked quizzically at Jack, but he was picking up his plate and pushing back his chair.
‘I hope you’ll excuse me, but I want to crack on with something that might take a while.’
Jack put his plate into the dishwasher, opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water, carrying it out of the kitchen. Penny shook her head, telling Maggie she had lost count of how many times she had told Jack to rinse off the dirty plates before putting them in the dishwasher.
‘Listen, at least he’s now putting them into the dishwasher,’ Maggie laughed. ‘He used to just leave everything in the sink, only inches away from the dishwasher. I’ll take him up a coffee when I’ve cleared the kitchen. That chicken was really good — thank you. We should get one again.’
Jack was glued to his laptop screen, as one photograph after another came up from the agency files, along with the applicants’ particulars. He had only been looking at female applicants so far, and there seemed to be hundreds of them. The majority appeared to be middle-aged retired women, widows or divorcees.