by Linda Coles
“So I’m guessing you’ve got some news for me,” said Marcus, almost defeated. He was expecting the worst. It had been forty-eight hours now.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” started Alan. “We haven’t recovered a body matching the description of your wife, Susan Smith. There is currently no body in the mortuary that fits her description and there are no DNA matches.”
Marcus looked up from his drink. It wasn’t the news he was expecting and confusion creased his eyebrows. “You’re telling me that my wife isn’t dead? She wasn’t on the train?”
“We’re saying that we don’t currently have your wife’s body which would lead us to conclude that she is alive somewhere. But as yet we are unable to locate her. She wasn’t admitted to the mortuary or any of the hospitals, but she was on that train. She did go through passport control. She is now officially missing.”
“But that’s impossible,” said Marcus. “Why would she just disappear? And she’s not called, she’s not answering her phone.”
“I can’t answer that for you,” Alan said. “But I can tell you this: we’re doing everything we possibly can to locate your wife. But I will also tell you she is now listed as a missing person and because she is an adult in her own right, there is only so much we can do to find her.”
Marcus erupted like a sleeping volcano. “What do you mean there is only so much you can do?” he bellowed, making the FLO jump visibly. “You need to get out there and find her!” His face was the colour of the red wine he was drinking, his voice raised to screaming pitch.
“I understand that, sir, but if she has decided to go missing, for whatever reason, of her own free will, then that’s her prerogative. Obviously, under the circumstances, after the accident, we will be looking a little more closely but it’s safe to say she is not in any of the mortuaries or the hospitals in the local area. We simply don’t have Susan Smith.” Alan stayed quiet for a moment, letting it sink into Marcus’s head just what he was saying. There was a good chance that his wife was still alive somewhere, yet he didn’t look happy or sad about that news.
Marcus remained quiet, his explosive temper simmering down.
“In the meantime,” Alan carried on, “Constable Jamie Miller is here in the capacity of family liaison officer. She will act as the go-between between yourself and the team until we figure out what’s happened to Mrs Smith. She’s support and liaison and will stay here as long as you want her to. So if you have any questions, please put them through Constable Miller.”
Jamie nodded and smiled slightly to Marcus who returned the gesture with a look of contempt. Alan was glad it wasn’t his role to fill.
“I don’t need anybody to babysit me, I’m a grown man. What I need is someone to find my wife. Today!” His skin was flushed crimson, blotches appearing on his neck.
Jamie was used to this reaction and had a standard line of reply.
“If I may, Mr Smith,” she started. “You may feel differently when the news has sunk in and I’m here if you need me.”
Marcus finished his glass of wine and topped it back up.
“So now I need to ask some questions,” said DS Davies. Marcus looked up from his glass that he’d been holding with both hands as if it was in danger of running away without him. “You might think some of these questions are a little simple but they can give us an idea, while we’re trying to build up a picture of Susan’s life, where she might have gone. So let’s start with the first one. Is there any reason that you can think of why your wife might have left?”
The volcano was back, spewing fire and ash. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” screamed Marcus. “Is that the best you can do? No, I don’t know where she might have gone or why she might have gone. This is as big a mystery to me as it is to you. I give her everything she wants, more, and she disappears, putting me through hell, letting me think she’s dead. So no, I’ve no idea what’s gone on, where she is or why. Maybe you’d be better asking some of her friends, I’m rarely in the country anyway.” He caught his breath after yet another outburst. Alan hoped the man’s heart was strong enough; he didn’t fancy trying to revive him if he collapsed.
But sometimes, for a detective, it was what people didn’t say more than what they did say that gave the clues, evidence or suggestions of what happened in a crime. The fact that Mr Smith was hardly ever in the country, leaving his wife in the unmistakable, almost sterile environment on her own? She was probably lonely and had had enough. But it wasn’t his place to make assumptions. They had to find evidence. Though, as he’d already stated, she was a grown woman and entitled to disappear whether her husband liked that fact or not.
Watching Marcus Smith simmer with annoyance and drain his glass one more time, Alan hoped that if Susan Smith had run off, she had the stamina to keep on going.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Unlike like Chrissy, Julie was a superb cook. It was the reason she’d got such an elaborate, well-designed, almost commercial kitchen. Yes, it was also there for show, like a lot of things in Julie’s life, but when she had the time to spend creating, what she produced Raymond Blanc would be content eating. It was a shame she didn’t cook more often. While Chrissy used a food service to deliver meals for her family if she hadn’t the time to cook, Julie enjoyed going out to eat, to be seen in all the right places – something that drove Richard round the bend. He was a caring individual, and he loved his wife dearly, though he’d learned to tune out in those times when what she had to say really was of no importance to him at all. The general gossip or the petty things that went on in her life – the mundane, the banal – was of little interest. He really didn’t care if the dry cleaner screwed up and her idea of a hellish day was the wrong colour varnish applied to her toes. Recently though, since Jooles, Jooles had opened, he had to admit to himself that conversation had changed somewhat. But Richard was sensitive to the fact that Julie’s friend was presumed dead after the train crash and he’d decided to book somewhere more upmarket for a change, somewhere away from where they usually went out for dinner, to try and take her mind off it.
They’d spent their evening across town at a swanky place with starched linen tablecloths and silver cutlery, and Julie had shone as brightly as the diamonds embedded in her rings. For the first time in the last few days she’d seemed brighter, happier. Now they were on their way back home. Richard was at the wheel, choosing to stay sober and drive them himself rather than get a car. Ravel played lightly in the background on the sound system, Boléro about to reach a rather long, gradual crescendo with trombones, tubas and cymbals adding to the rest of the orchestra in heady full force. As they drove on through darkened streets, it couldn’t have been any more dramatic had there been thunder and lightning. Julie’s phone rang. Not connected to the Bluetooth it didn’t interrupt the music and she bent to retrieve the phone from the bottom of her evening purse.
“Who could that be?” Richard asked. “It’s gone eleven o’clock.”
“It’s Marcus,” said Julie, surprised as she checked the caller ID. “I wonder if he’s heard something?”
She swiped to open the phone and said, “Marcus, do you have some news?”
“I do, though I’m not quite sure what to make it. I suppose it’s good news really.”
Julie realised that Marcus sounded somewhat maudlin. He wasn’t frantic, he wasn’t being weird, he simply sounded awfully flat, but there was something else in his words. It was a kind of despair, almost wondering. And drowsy.
“Have they confirmed Susan’s body, is that what you mean?”
“No,” he said resignedly, “that’s just it, they don’t have her body. Everybody’s been accounted for, everybody that could possibly be Susan that is. There is no Susan, she simply isn’t at the mortuary and she’s not been to any of the hospitals. I don’t know what to make of it.”
Julie took a moment for it to sink in what he was telling her. It wasn’t the news that she’d been expecting either.
“So, they think Sus
an is still alive somewhere, is that what you’re saying? Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?”
“And that’s what I thought,” said Marcus. “So where the hell is she and why hasn’t she contacted me? She must know about the crash – she was on the train because she went through passport control.”
“So she’s somehow disappeared?”
“So it seems.” Odd whimpering sounds made Julie wonder if Marcus had begun to cry quietly and she immediately felt for him. It was so unlike the man she otherwise knew so little about. He was always rampant, gunning for something, on edge, or just being a complete arse. But this was a different side to him she’d never seen before, a caring side, a concerned side that his wife was missing. The situation had turned into a whole different scenario. She also wondered if he’d taken something, his words sounded drowsy almost.
“Are you all right, Marcus?” she enquired. Perhaps he’d been drinking and taken a sleeping tablet.
“I’m fine. Sleepy.” Maybe he had.
“So, what happens next?” Julie asked. She was conscious of Richard constantly turning his head, trying to understand what was going on on the phone, trying to catch odd words and make something of it.
“I’ve filed an official missing person report but, because she is an adult, they informed me that there is little they can do because she may have walked off of her own free will. They don’t suspect foul play. There was an accident, yes, and a woman has since disappeared, gone. They’ll take a cursory look, but then that’s it.”
“What can I do to help, Marcus?” Julie asked with a renewed gust of energy.
“I don’t know. I just thought you’d like to know. I’m going to sleep on it and see what happens in the morning. I guess it’s better than dead though, even with so many unanswered questions.”
“Let’s speak tomorrow. Get some rest.”
As usual with Marcus, the phone line was already disconnected. Julie turned to Richard and relayed the conversation.
“What the hell is happening now, she’s alive?” asked Richard. “But he thinks she’s done a runner? Is that it?”
Julie put her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes for a moment. “It could be so. But if she has done a runner, where’s she gone and why?”
“I guess she’s got her reasons, if that’s what’s happened.”
“I’m going to give Chrissy a call, maybe she can help.”
“And what makes you think she can? She works in HR, doesn’t she?”
“Keep up Richard,” Julie said sarcastically, finding her sister’s number and waiting for the call to connect. “She set herself up as a PI a few months back.”
“A private investigator? I must have missed that piece of drama,” he mused and turned his concentration back to the road as Julie relayed the facts to Chrissy. It wasn’t hard to hear the loud “holy hell” from his sister-in-law. She wasn’t known for being demure.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chrissy suggested she meet Julie in a café in Englefield Green and was sitting nursing a mug of milky coffee, waiting for her sister to arrive, and people-watching at the same time. She wondered about their lives, where they were headed, what they might be going back to later, and if they were happy. Each life different to the next. Blonde hair in the distance caught her eye and she instinctively knew who it belonged to. She smiled to herself as Julie approached, opened the café door and glanced around for her. Chrissy put her hand in the air to make it easier for her to spot and Julie wandered over, immaculately dressed as per usual. Chrissy couldn’t help but notice the gazing eyes of both men and women giving her sister the once over. She was a stunning looking woman. She leaned in and air-kissed either side of Chrissy’s head.
“Did you sleep?” Julie asked. “I didn’t sleep at all.”
There was no point in trying to answer before Julie finished with her own experience so Chrissy simply nodded her head.
“What exciting news, isn’t it? At least Susan is alive. That much I do believe,” Julie said happily.
“And you’re obviously thinking I can somehow find her when the police can’t. Is that why you wanted to meet?”
Julie readjusted her leather skirt before sitting down to join her sister, crossing legs that wouldn’t look out of place at a hosiery photo shoot. “Of course, you are a PI, aren’t you? I’m happy to pay.”
“It’s nothing to do with money, Julie,” she said. “I’m just not sure what more I can do that the police can’t. Why don’t we wait and see what they come up with first?”
Julie looked petulant as she stared back at her sister. “But you’re a private investigator now so you’ve surely got some other tools. They always seem to have on the television so I’m assuming you will be the same? You must have a geek friend somewhere that can track Susan via her phone or something?”
Chrissy gave an amused smile at the reference to television shows. Real life was rarely the same as a police show, a private investigator series or Silent Witness. The public had a misconception of what actually went on because in reality the true story would be somewhat less exciting. And a good deal slower.
“First off,” said Chrissy. “You can only track someone’s phone when it’s turned on, unless you’re the NSA, and since it’s days after the crash there’d be no battery charge left. Or perhaps she dropped it and they found her phone at the crash site, one of many I should expect, but the battery would be dead. And the phone would be locked.”
Julie looked crestfallen.
“And who would even be tracking her? Do you track Richard? I doubt that Marcus would be bothered, would he?”
“There must be other technology, there must be other ways to find her?”
“If she doesn’t want to be found then no, not much. I’m betting her credit cards haven’t been touched, she’s not been on Facebook, obviously, and she’s not bought anything on hire purchase understandably. And none of her friends you’ve tried have heard from her.” Chrissy let the information settle before adding, “You might have to face the fact she doesn’t want to be found and is living the life in Greece with a bronzed fisherman. That’s what I’d do. Like Shirley Valentine did. Though it’s better than dead.”
“So, you’re giving up before we’ve even started?” asked Julie.
“And what’s with the ‘we’?” Chrissy said, squinting slightly at her sister as she said the words. Was Julie thinking of tagging along? Surely not.
“Well,” she said, “I just mean we’ll be looking for her, but not me physically, obviously.”
“What about Marcus? Does he know that you’re speaking to me, looking to employ me to find his wife? Or has he got something organised himself?”
“I don’t much care about Marcus because I don’t think Marcus much cares about Susan. But I care, she was my friend— is my friend. She’s still alive, remember?”
“Well, I think out of courtesy we should let him know that we’re looking for her. He might be able to help.”
“You know, maybe he was tracking her,” Julie said thoughtfully. “She said he was a bit controlling. Maybe he was tracking her in some way and she didn’t know about it? I wouldn’t put it past him, it feels like something he’d do.”
“I suspect if it was something he was privy to, he’d have checked it out already but, like I said, the phone will be dead, it would be useless. And the police will have checked that angle, I’m sure.”
A young waitress came over and Julie ordered a green tea; Chrissy, a refill and a blueberry muffin. When the waitress had gone, Julie leaned into Chrissy and almost in a whisper said, “I think, looking back now, now that she has gone, maybe she has run away from him. She never said anything specific to me, that he abused her or anything, but I know she was dreadfully unhappy with the way he kept a mental grip on her. Maybe she just got sick of it. Maybe she was planning on running away all along when she went off to France for the day. Maybe she is hiding out in Greece somewhere.”
Dramatic like a
corny soap opera.
“You’re forgetting the train crash, though, so I doubt very much she’s actually in Greece. Or Paris. Still in England somewhere?”
“There are other ways of getting across the Channel once that train had crashed. Maybe she did get off, managed to get out unscathed. She could get to the airport.”
Chrissy sat thoughtfully. “Those front carriages were almost completely destroyed, mangled completely from what I saw on news reports. And the Business Premier carriages are up front and where the main casualties were. I’m assuming that Susan, being one of your friends, was travelling in style, wouldn’t you think?”
Julie wondered. “I would assume so, yes.”
“Then we need to double-check that she bought a business ticket before we go off wandering around the country or further afield. Because if she was in the first carriages, the chances of this being some terrible error would be high. When that train derailed and the carriages were dragged sideways down the tracks… I don’t need to spell it out any further.”
“I’m sure I can persuade Marcus to have a look at the credit-card statement for transactions and I’ll tell him that we’re going to look into her disappearance at the same time.” Chrissy caught the ‘we’ again but ignored it this time.
“I think that’s wise. We need to at least keep him in the loop. He may be of help.”
“How else can we trace her?” Julie asked, sipping at her green tea and watching Chrissy tuck into the blueberry muffin, crumbs sticking to her upper lip before she finally wiped them off. Chrissy stayed quiet while she chewed and thought. There was only so much she could do to find the missing woman, but there were questions she needed the answers to and that meant a conversation with Marcus Smith.