by D K Bohlman
‘Got time for a chat, Jen?’
She turned, still walking, fumbling for her key. ‘Mmm … not now eh? Not really in the mood after today. It’s been too sad, hasn’t it? Maybe I’ll call you in a couple of days?’
He grunted, silently disagreeing. Within seconds she was through her door and out of sight.
He slumped back into his seat, cursing his slowness of thought. With a sigh, he turned the ignition key, staring blankly up the road at a couple taking an early evening stroll. He crawled off towards the A9 and the long drive home, feeling more downbeat than he had for a while.
*
The automatic light in the shared entrance hall was slow to trigger. When it did eventually flicker, it grew from a dim glow very slowly. Energy saver bulb, the old type. The landlord was too skimpy with his maintenance to change it for the newer, faster ones. Jenna stopped in the hallway, waiting for enough light to see clearly. She’d already tripped over someone’s bicycle pedal in the hallway one night and bruised her shin; she didn't want to risk another stumble.
The gloominess sent her primary senses into overdrive, overwhelmed by smells: damp carpet, a faint aroma of food, probably trodden-in chips from a late snack brought back by an inebriated resident. Oiled bicycle chains. Something else. Sweat maybe. But she couldn’t feel anyone there.
Eventually, the light was bright enough to move safely. Only a few seconds had passed but it always felt longer. She hurried up the bare staircase and slipped through her door.
She threw her keys onto the table in the centre of the lounge. She shared the flat with Amy, a second-year psychology student. No one home right now.
Stepping across the painted floorboards, she sat on the large window ledge, facing back into the room. She arched her back and breathed out. She would call Gregor soon. How that would work she wasn’t sure, but it felt worth doing.
She felt a slight pressure on her back. Nothing really physical, more a sense of pressure.
Turning towards the windowpane, she half-expected to see Gregor still there, sat in his old Fiat.
He was gone, though. Nothing there, except a passer-by trudging up the darkening, winter-bound street. There was a slight crack between the window frame and wall where it hadn’t quite been latched properly. The lightest draught of air moved through it, brushing her nose.
She shivered, pushed the latch closed and pulled the curtains firmly shut. The half bottle of red standing on the tiny kitchenette worktop looked attractive … and she started to hope that Amy would be home soon.
A new case
____________________________
Calum had disentangled himself from Cassie the following morning with some awkwardness and not without a little worry. She’d clung to him for half the morning. Even brought them breakfast in bed and insisted on staying there for a while after the toast and cereals were long gone. He had an afternoon meeting with a client back home in his office in Plockton and it was a good long drive to the west coast.
The appointment was at 2:30, a new piece of work. Without Jenna to help with things like this now, he had to arrange bookings himself and so he’d spoken to this prospective client two days ago. She’d seemed frantic to see him, but with Ellie’s funeral ahead of him, he’d had to put her off for a couple of days. She’d even offered to come to his office the same day. So better not be late today.
After a quick shower, he came back into the bedroom to dress.
‘You still look good Mr Neuman.’
Calum cringed a little, tried not to show it, smiled back and took the compliment. But he quickly shrugged his clothes on to stop the conversation developing in that direction. Still felt good to be told that though.
‘Thanks for ignoring my little belly, Cass. Well, time to go now, else I really might be late for my new customer.’
‘Hehe, still tall, dark and handsome. Mr Blue Eyes.’
He hadn’t a clue what to say next. He wanted to say … it had been good to sleep together, that it was a one-off, that he didn’t regret it, that there shouldn’t be another time …
Somehow, that all seemed wrong to say aloud. Maybe leave it unspoken. But that could leave doubt, couldn't it? It could.
‘OK. I’m off. So, thanks and, well, you know, be in touch.’
Cassie smiled and looked as if she was about to reply but he waved and stepped outside the bedroom smartly and closed the door.
‘Let myself out,’ he shouted back over his shoulder.
He blew out a long sigh as he strode down the front path to his car. So he’d blown the parting scene again. He tried to put any consequences out of his mind and gunned the engine, pulling out from the kerbside with gusto twinned with relief.
Back in the house, Cassie lay on her back with a flat feeling and a resigned expression. Whatever she’d had in mind when they came upstairs last night, it probably wasn't going to end in a good place. But those thoughts were simply tiny pieces of leaf, strewn aside by the gale of Ellie’s death. Tears dripped slowly onto her pillow, as visions of the hospital room flooded her senses. She wished it was time to sleep again.
*
It was an easy drive back for once. No tractors, no cattle on the road. Just open skies and the highland scenery, which he softly sucked in. It gave him quiet time to think about his daughter, not that he could think of anything else for more than a moment. Driving down the last bit of coastline towards the small village of Plockton, the cabbage-palms along the harbour front coming into view, he reminded himself how lucky he was to live in such a peaceful part of the west coast.
He parked on Harbour Street and made his way up the passageway to the office, followed by a light spray of rain.
He shook his coat and smoothed his hair down, flicking the kettle on and raiding the small fridge for the pork pie that had been occupying his mind for the last ten minutes of the drive. He hadn’t had one of these cholesterol binges for a few weeks, so that was OK. His latest bloods showed his LDL was under control. He deserved a treat now and then didn’t he?
Susan McTeer rang the office doorbell ten minutes early. Calum cursed softly and swallowed as much of his freshly made cup of tea as its temperature would allow, before hurrying across to the hallway. If Jenna hadn’t left, she could have entertained the client till he’d finished his drink.
He opened the door to a short, dark-haired woman, late forties maybe. She threw him a tight grin and cocked her head to one side, like a large sparrow.
‘Good afternoon. Mr Neuman?’
‘Indeed. I’m Calum Neuman. Call me Calum, please … and come in.’
Calum squeezed out his best new-client smile and ushered her across the hallway threshold.
‘Door to the right … come and have a seat.’
He pointed her towards Jenna’s old desk, positioned six feet away, parallel to his own. He preferred to interview clients this way, without a desk in between them. He could observe all their body language this way.
She surveyed the seating arrangement and took her seat somewhat cautiously, as people often seemed to. Odd things human beings, creatures of habit, funny how a small deviation from the expected norm could send them out of kilter.
‘Thanks.’
‘Tea? Coffee? I have a real Italian machine if you’d prefer the latter … or latte.’
Susan smiled at his weak joke. ‘Tea will be fine, thank you.’
Calum busied himself with the tea making. While it was brewing, he gazed into the large mirror in the entrance hall, via which he could see the corner of the room where Susan was sat. Except she wasn’t.
He debated with himself over whether to return to the office, then decided to wait. After a couple of minutes, with a steaming mug of tea in hand, he re-entered the room.
Susan was stood next to the window near his desk, gazing out onto the street fronting Plockton harbour. He glanced down at his desk, checking all was in order before he announced the arrival of the tea.
Susan promptly took the mug from his h
and.
‘Beautiful view here. Not sure I’d get much work done next to this window.’
‘Don’t worry, your fees are safe with me. I’m immune to the view, born up here, lived here a lot of my life. It’s great, but to be honest I like to look at something different every now and then.’
He mentally bit his tongue for his defensiveness, but she seemed to have ignored it.
They both sat down and Calum gazed at her face for a moment before speaking.
‘So, I understand your daughter is missing?’
‘Yes. It’s been over a week now.’
Susan stared out of the window again. Her eyes welled up as she spoke.
‘Sarah’s a post-grad at the university in Inverness. She’s been doing research towards her Master’s. She just disappeared from contact, beginning of last week. She said she might be going on a trip, but didn’t say where. Now she isn’t at her flat or answering her phone. We reported her missing after a day or so. The police have been making enquiries but nothing so far.’
‘So why do you need my help? It does sound like a job for the police force. What do you think I could do that they can’t?’
‘I’m not sure to be fair. I just want to try everything I can. It’s so out of character for Sarah not to be in touch, we’re really close you know? It just feels all wrong. Just wrong.’
‘OK. I can understand that. So let’s get some basic details down. Then we can see how I can possibly help.’
She nodded meekly. ‘She’s twenty-four. She did her degree at Aberdeen. Politics, specialised in eastern Europe. Took a year off travelling after that, had a couple of temporary jobs then before starting her Master’s degree. I’m not really sure, to be honest, what that’s all about, something concerning Hungary, I think. She hasn't told me much about it. I know she’s been learning Hungarian for the last few months, though.’
Calum considered his words carefully for his next question.
‘So, does Sarah tell you about most things or …?’
Susan curled her mouth sideways, making a cynical expression. ‘Depends if she’s in the mood, to be honest. She’s got a bubbly character, but she sometimes keeps things to herself. Anyway, she’s not told me much about this degree. Nor her dad.’
‘How often do you speak to her or see her?’
‘Well, she shares a flat in town with another girl. Name of Niamh. Sarah comes to see us most weeks, or calls every few days. Not a clingy child, you know, just normal. She’s grown up now, isn’t she?’
Calum heard some sadness in the last few words. Was that the normal resignation of a parent whose child had not long left home? Or something else? He scribbled down a few more personal details. It took a while. Susan seemed to be one of those people who told you a story about everything before giving you the one-liner you were really after. Calum had learnt over the years, though, that the preamble sometimes provided him with some useful information. So he listened intently.
‘Any idea what she’d been doing in the few days before you last heard from her?’
‘Nothing unusual as far as I can think. She came round for Sunday lunch last week. Didn’t mention anything other than day to day stuff, you know?’
‘Boyfriend?’
Susan hesitated fractionally. ‘Not sure. Maybe you’d better ask her flatmate that one.’
Calum looked harder at Susan. She turned her head away.
‘I think it may be useful for me to talk to her flatmate anyway. Let me get the address from you. I’ll make that the first step and then let you know what we might do next.’
‘Thank you. Do you think you can talk to me tomorrow, update me?’
‘All depends on her flatmate being willing to talk to us, and when she’s free. I’ll try and do that tomorrow, though, no problem. Might get an associate in Inverness to do that to speed it up.’
‘An associate?’
‘Yes. She works for me from time to time.’
Bit of a lie. Jenna hadn’t worked for him since last summer since she went to Inverness to study. But a white lie sometimes helped impress an eager client.
Calum wondered whether he was letting himself in for a frantic progress chaser. Wouldn’t be unreasonable in the circumstances though.
‘Any recent pictures? Height and build would be useful too, photos can be a bit misleading.’
She fished an envelope out of her bag.
‘Here, a couple of her this year. She’s medium build and height I’d say. Black hair, shortish but sometimes gets onto her shoulders.’
Calum thanked her, said he would be in touch.
She nodded acceptance and stood up, remaining still for a moment, staring out of the window, contemplating something.
She looked back to Calum.
‘I may as well tell you this, in case it makes a difference, maybe when you talk to her flatmate. Sarah’s gay.’
‘She’s her lover?’
‘I don’t know. But maybe. So, you might want to bear that in mind?’
Susan moved towards the hallway, clearly wanting to leave the conversation.
‘OK, so I’ll be in touch, let me get the door for you.’
He didn’t get the chance. She was through it before he could pass her in the hallway. She muttered a goodbye and thanks, as she hurried towards the loch-side road.
Closing the door, he wondered if there was a reason why those last dregs of the conversation had been so painful for her. Was it just she perceived her daughter’s sexuality as a stigma? Or something else?
He thought another cup of tea might tell him the answer.
A few minutes later he sat down with it and started to re-read his interview notes.
*
The tea didn’t work any magic this time. His mind kept springing back to Ellie like the snooze buzzer on an evil alarm clock.
He slumped back into his chair, wondering how to start. The assignment definitely interested him. Since the Muir job a year or so back, he hadn’t had much excitement in his case-load. Mundane, local stuff mostly, often things the police weren’t interested in but the client wouldn't let drop.
He had a case recently, trying to establish whether the crew of a local fishing boat had been pilfering a share of the daily catch of prawns. Spending time with a telescope on the top of the brae behind the village, for hours on end, in all sorts of weather, had been a depressing experience. And not a stolen prawn in sight. Sometimes he did think his law degree might be used more productively. But this case … maybe it was more like what he needed.
On the other hand, it might need an amount of travel and some research: and those two things weren’t always done easily in parallel. If only he had Jenna with him still.
It’d been harder since she left. Harder on Gregor too, for sure. But Calum missed her, and not just because she was an extra pair of hands. It was fun having her in the office and the room felt dead without her banter.
But Jenna was at university in Inverness, wasn't she? Maybe there was a way in there … and maybe a bit of extra money would go down well with her for some part-time work? After all, she’d been pleading poverty when they were chatting at Ellie’s wake.
So, a call or an email? Or a WhatsApp? He pondered on the best way to get Jenna interested.
He needed to persuade. So he would write an email. If he felt brave enough he’d call her with it to hand. If not, he could send it.
He started to type. Fifteen thoughtful minutes later he had a draft.
So, Jenna-ration more switched on than me. Since you were saying you might need a bit of cash for that high-tech lifestyle you live now, I’ve been thinking (I know - it’s been tough :)). So … here’s a thought. I’ve got a new case. A girl’s gone missing. Needs a bit of research. And since she’s living and studying in Inverness, I thought it might be up your street, so to speak? You could start by talking to her flatmate and finding out about her colleagues at the university. Easy for you over there. Not for me over here. And you know how lazy I�
�m getting. What d’you think?
Oh, and I thought you might like us working together again. Be like old times. Batman and Robinette. Just don’t know how I’d get you to make the morning coffees from over there :)
Well, let me know.
Calum/alternate father figure/wannabe uncle.
He sat back and re-read it again. Nice bit of flattery: not too much, she’d known him since she was small and understood him very well to boot. It was good enough. But not quite good enough to spur him to actually call her. He clicked the send button and let his thoughts drift towards what he might have for his dinner. And Ellie.
An invite
____________________________
Her flatmate, Amy, had been late back, well after Jenna had gotten herself into bed, still a bit spooked by something unseen in the street. She’d heard her come in, though, that was the trigger for her to finally fall off to sleep herself.
She’d no lectures until the afternoon on the following day, so she overslept without a care and roused herself out of bed around ten. She stood in the kitchenette, waiting for the kettle to boil, a digestive biscuit half-crammed into her mouth and her mobile phone already lit up with the morning’s tweets and posts.
With the tea brewing, she decided it was a dull social media day. Even Gregor had been silent. She’d expected some kind of message from him this morning.
It was kind of annoying to admit it but she felt irritated that he’d been mute. But it was she who’d paused their relationship last summer, wasn't it?
It seemed the right thing to do then, to give herself the space to start university without any expectations, personal or otherwise. Decisions weren’t easy, though, or always right. Relationships less so.
She flicked over to her emails.
One from Calum. Likely to be wanting something then.
She read it. His sad humour made her laugh, as usual. How could such corny lines make her giggle and smile?