by Adam Carter
“Same reason women always side with women.”
Hayden knew this was an argument she was not going to win. She remembered having talked with Laura during the investigation. The poor woman had been distraught and could not stop crying the entire time. That was not the reaction of someone who didn’t care for her husband; and if she could react that way, she did not deserve such a louse for a husband to begin with. There had even been hushed talk that Laura might have killed him to stop him wasting all their money, and such talk had infuriated Hayden no end. She was not herself married, but could not believe that the job could so destroy a person’s soul that they could not be happy for those who were.
“Maybe we should look into it more.” Tremens said. “Someone somewhere must know where Harry is.”
“I thought you thought he was dead?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hope he isn’t. Where could we start looking? And, before you say it, I’m not talking to Laura. That woman does my head in.”
Tremens had a lot of work on. Hayden knew precisely how much because her workload was just as full. To take on a missing person’s case would be ridiculous, even if that missing person was a fellow detective. However, a month without any sign of the man was worrying and Hayden liked to think someone would do the same for her should she vanish.
“We can get the case notes,” Hayden said, “but we’re not assigned to the case. Whatever we do will have to be off the record, Rich.”
“Sure. At least that way it means we won’t have to fill in any reports about what we do.”
He was hiding it well, but Tremens was worried. Hayden always knew when Tremens was worried because he began making jokes about paperwork.
They requested the case notes through an unofficial channel. With an officer missing, it presented an opportunity for everyone to forget about correct procedure and do everything possible to get said officer back. Hayden considered sifting through the notes at the station, but the atmosphere was so bleak and oppressive she knew the only conclusion she would reach would be that Slade was far better off wherever he was. She therefore suggested the two of them head down to the local café. Given the opportunity, Tremens would have lived in that café, so he offered no argument.
Grabbing her jacket, Hayden stepped outside into the blasting December cold. The snow had slowed to a mild flurry, but even that was mainly just what the wind was blowing around, while underfoot her shoes crunched through the soft layers, leaving an unsightly white rim which no doubt would be the devil to remove. Hayden had never much liked snow, even when it was in the soft, harmless stage. It was, so far as she could see, pointless. Snow did nothing for the environment, did nothing to help life along, and to her mind it was something to be fought. If she could slap an ASBO on snow she would gladly have done so, but she did not like to think about it too much. If she did, she would only return to the fact she hated the winter and everything it brought with it. She knew Tremens was more open to the winter months, which was one of the reasons she did not like to discuss Christmas with him. Tremens was a boy at heart, which always surprised her considering how soul-destroying their lives were.
They moved quickly to the café, neither of them wanting to spend any more time in the cold than necessary. Decorations clung gaudily to lampposts and railings: sickly displays of quasi-religious cheeriness. Some of the lights were on, others knew not to illuminate during the day, while some had died years ago but their corpses were dragged out each winter to make everyone feel better about themselves. As they entered the café, it was to discover a low undercurrent of Christmas music which was nowhere near as annoying as it could have been. The café itself was fairly small, with only a dozen or so tables, all bolted to the floor. It was cheap, served nothing that was any good for the human body, but above all it was warm. Hayden found a table beside one of the radiators and knew after a few minutes she might even stop shivering.
Tremens did not even glance at the menu. Hayden wished the owners would one day change the choice and give him the shock of his life.
“So,” Hayden said as she set down the notes, “what makes us a better investigation team than the officers actually assigned to the case?”
“We don’t miss what’s obvious,” Tremens said, giving his order to the waitress he had already called over. Hayden had learned he knew all the staff by name, which meant he used the café far too much to be healthy.
She realised then the waitress was waiting for her to order something, and she went with egg and chips even though now they were there she wasn’t all that hungry.
“We should start,” Tremens said, “by eliminating everything that’s already been covered. They spoke with Slade’s family, right?”
“Nothing from any of them,” Hayden said, sifting through the paperwork.
“And his neighbours.”
“Same. No one saw anything, heard anything, noticed anything.”
“Talking to his co-workers would be next, but that’s us and we sure don’t know where he is.”
“So then we come to his vices,” Hayden said. “Gambling, womanising, drinking. Nothing conclusive from those, either.”
“If it was gambling or drinking,” Tremens said, “we’d be able to find a trail. There would be clues.”
“So you’re saying it has something to do with his womanising?”
“I’m saying it’s easier to keep a woman secret than a gambling problem.”
“And you know this from experience?”
Just then the waitress appeared and saved him from having to answer. She plopped two coffees on the table, her eyes lingering as though she wondered what they were working on, before she drifted back to her work.
“We have to break this down to the basics,” Tremens said. “There are only two things that could have happened. He could have disappeared voluntarily or involuntarily. If the latter, he’s probably dead. And yes, I think it has to do with a woman.”
“Why?”
Tremens shifted uncomfortably and suddenly Hayden realised there was something he was not saying. Something he knew about Slade he had never told her. Something perhaps more people at the station knew.
“Spill it,” she said. “Slade told you something, didn’t he?”
Tremens shrugged, and this time Hayden actually thought he likely hadn’t realised he had even done it. “Harry was seeing someone else.”
“You mean for definite?”
“He told me.”
“Have you told the investigating officers?”
“Of course, what do you take me for? But I never knew her name, never knew anything about her actually. I just know he was seeing someone.”
“Does Laura know?”
“I doubt it. Unless she found out and she was the one who killed him.”
Their food arrived at that point. The waitress smiled, sliding their plates before them. Again she seemed to take her time leaving their table and Hayden was beginning to get annoyed with her.
“What?” Tremens asked.
“What, what?” Hayden asked. “What’s that waitress keep hanging around us for?”
“She’s our waitress; she’s serving our food.”
“And?”
“And? And what? You think I’m having an affair with the waitress now?”
“You tell me. You’re in here a lot and you seem to be keeping other things from me.”
Tremens ignored her and started on his meal. He was angry, which was a sure sign he wasn’t hiding anything. Hayden turned to her own food and the two of them ate in silence for some minutes. She knew she was frustrated about the missing detective and that she should not be taking it out on Tremens. But it was eating at her that they did not know what had happened and that until they found out, it could perhaps have been any one of them who had vanished.
“We need to find out who Slade was having an affair with,” Hayden said at last. It was not an apology, but since she was talking about the case again it was the best Treme
ns was going to get.
“No one’s been able to figure that out,” Tremens said, his tone suggesting he had not forgiven what she had said but had decided to forget it. “Maybe we need to talk to Laura after all.”
“You mean tell her about the affair?”
“It’s the only angle I can think of that hasn’t been covered yet. Maybe it’ll get us somewhere.”
“It’ll surely get Laura somewhere; just not anywhere pleasant.”
Tremens stopped eating, which was never a good sign. “I feel terrible already, but it needs to be done.” He pulled out his wallet and Hayden was glad she was sitting down because he hadn’t finished his food and did not seem as though he intended to. He signalled the waitress and gave her the money. She smiled and thanked him, entirely ignoring Hayden.
Stepping back into the cold, Hayden tried not to glower.
“What?” Tremens said. “Not the waitress thing again.”
“No, of course not,” Hayden said more icily than the air. “Just be careful, Rich.”
Tremens scowled. “Sure, whatever.”
“Richard,” a voice called and Hayden saw the waitress hurrying out of the café with something in her hand. Without her jacket she was likely freezing but Hayden didn’t care, for at that moment all she wanted to do was shove the girl’s face into the snow. “You forgot your change,” the waitress said.
Tremens looked flustered as he explained she could keep it. The waitress veritably beamed and almost moved to hug or kiss him. She must have caught Hayden’s glower because she restrained herself. “If I don’t see you before Christmas, have a good one, Richard.”
“You too,” Tremens replied sheepishly.
Once the girl was gone, Hayden folded her arms and stared, saying nothing.
“She’s a sweet kid,” Tremens said. “And a lot of the guys from the station use this café. We all know the staff.”
“All?”
“Well, obviously you don’t. But you don’t have anything to worry about, Ruth. There’s nothing going on with me and Suzie.”
Suzie. Hayden filed the name away. She had a feeling that come the future, Suzie was going to be causing them a great deal of problems indeed.
CHAPTER THREE
Laura Slade did not know anything. Hayden had met her a few times over the years but would not have called her a friend. Since her husband had disappeared, Laura had latched onto Hayden as her point of contact at the station. Perhaps it was because she was a woman, perhaps because Hayden did not judge Laura like other officers might have; whatever the reason, Hayden was the closest thing Laura had to a friend at her husband’s work.
Hayden found herself in the kitchen, making tea. She did not ordinarily drink tea, but Laura was a traditional woman who loved nothing more than to share a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits with her guests. Hayden did not want to do anything to unnerve the woman further and if she could adhere to Laura’s routines it might help her remember something. Tremens was in the living room making small talk with her, which was always laughable. Tremens was a good detective but he was not exactly what Hayden would have called a people person.
The water boiled and Hayden poured it into the teapot before carrying it into the living room. The Slades had a decent-sized house in a fairly nice neighbourhood, which was more than Hayden and Tremens had. There were no Slade children, so the arrangement of the house was entirely Laura and Harry. There was a DVD cabinet and a small CD rack which were probably Harry’s, but aside from that Hayden could not see anything which presented the property as belonging to anything other than a single woman. The ornaments on the mantelpiece, the animal doorstops, the flowery design on the curtains; none of it seemed to say anything at all about Harry. She had thought she had known Harry fairly well, but it seemed she had no idea about his social life at all.
She realised she was standing in the doorway, her mind wandering, and moved in to set down the tea.
Tremens, she noted with a little glee, looked extremely uncomfortable.
“Laura was just running through what she told the other officers,” Tremens said.
Hayden poured the tea. Whatever Laura had told the other officers would not interest the two of them. If there was anything to be found in her statement it would have already been picked up on. They had to go through the procedure, however, to make Mrs Slade more comfortable. If she was relaxed she might remember something or even say something she did not feel was important, but which could crack the case for them. Hayden decided she would have to say something to Laura: something that would make them bond. She had no idea what that might have been.
Then she realised something was missing from the house and decided that was perfect. “You haven’t decorated,” Hayden said as she reached for a biscuit. “Gaudy tack, isn’t it?”
“When your husband’s missing, presumed dead, you don’t much feel like decorating.”
Hayden’s hand stopped with the biscuit halfway to her mouth.
“There’s probably not a lot of room in there for the biscuit,” Tremens said, “what with all the room being taken up by your foot.”
“I’m sorry, Laura.”
But Laura waved it off. “Harry’s said much worse. It’s the job, you know. It plays with your mind. All those hours you work without proper time to sleep in between. Do you know Harry well?”
“No,” Hayden said. “Well, I thought I did, but I really don’t know.” She took a sip of tea to calm her nerves.
“So you weren’t sleeping with him, then?”
Hayden spluttered, her tea going everywhere.
“Sorry,” Laura said. “Bad moment to ask that. I just wondered whether it was you, that’s all.”
“You know your husband was having an affair?”
“I suspected. Well, yes I know. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself, and I didn’t want to ask him because I didn’t want to hear the answer. If he said yes that would have destroyed me, if he said no it would have been worse because it would have meant he couldn’t even be honest with me.” She stared into her tea. “Honestly, do you think he’s dead?”
“I’ve no idea,” Hayden said truthfully. “And until we can figure out what happened to him, no one does. Uh, you want me to grab a cloth or something for the tea?”
“There’s some cleaning stuff in the bathroom.”
Hayden exited the living room as quickly as possible before she could say or do anything to make matters even worse. She hoped she would be able to find a cloth without too much rooting around: she didn’t want to make it look as though she had been searching through the victim’s bathroom for clues. As she opened the bathroom door, however, she stopped in shock. It was not a large room, but its two shelves were loaded so heavily with cleaning products she thought it might collapse at any moment. In the shower she could see at least half a dozen different shampoos and conditioners, while on the floor about the sink there were four different types of toilet cleaners. She reached tentatively for the room’s only cupboard and cleaning products poured out onto her like someone was throwing them at her from the other side. There were hard soaps, liquid soaps, fruit-smelling soaps; toothpaste tubes, toothpaste pumps, dozens of spare toothbrushes; mint mouthwash, fruit mouthwash, plain mouthwash; handtowels, bath towels, flannels.
Shuddering, Hayden felt more than a little afraid she had stepped into the home of the most obsessively clean couple who ever lived.
Returning to the living room with a damp cloth, Hayden made a half-hearted attempt to sponge out the tea stains before Laura took over. She noticed Tremens was slowly working his way through all the biscuits and wondered whether that was the entire reason he had come.
“You certainly have a well-stocked bathroom,” Hayden said, unable to stop herself from enquiring.
“That’s Harry for you,” Laura said as she finished with the cloth and put it to one side. “He gets it cheap somewhere. Wholesale or something. I don’t really ask.”
Hayden was under the i
mpression there were a lot of things Laura Slade did not like to ask her husband about. “Anything else he gets wholesale?”
“What are you insinuating? Harry doesn’t get things which fall off the backs of lorries.”
“No?” Hayden asked. “Look, I’m not trying to accuse him of anything, but the more we know about his lifestyle the more avenues are open to us. Believe me, all we care about is finding your husband alive and well. The official investigation team has looked into his gambling and nothing came of it. That means it’s something the team didn’t know about. If he was getting things on the cheap, maybe the distributor found out he was a cop and got worried.”
She could see some of Laura’s instinctive aggression fading, the wall breaking down brick by brick. “I don’t know the name of the company,” she said. “Harry never brought home receipts or anything. He’d just stay out all night and then drive home with a car full of cleaning products.”
“He’s not a flowers guy, then?” Tremens asked.
Hayden really wished sometimes he would just shut up.
“You think they’re from his fancy woman?” Laura asked, and from her tone it was clear the thought was not so alien to her.
“Well, it does seem a bit weird,” Tremens said, “but he might use it as an excuse to see her. You don’t have any idea who she might be?”
“No. And if you find her, I still don’t want to know. I don’t want to meet her, don’t want to talk to her. She has nothing to do with my life, whoever she is.”
They did not get much more from Laura Slade and by the time Hayden and Tremens left they were even more in the dark than when they had begun. Hayden drove them slowly home, giving them a chance to think, to sort through whatever they had learned.
“About all I can conclude,” Tremens said, “is that Slade’s life is a bit screwed-up.”
“Which Slade?”
“Both of them, actually. All right, let’s look at this logically. Harry’s having an affair and in the morning brings back toilet cleaner. Sounds stupid, but it’s still the most plausible thing we can surmise. Question is, who’s the weirdest party in all of this? Harry, who expects it to work; Laura, on whom it does work; or this other woman, who thinks women love cleaning products.”