‘Good,’ she said, flipping the visor back into place.
The tapping of fingers on the wheel had now become the smacking of palms. ‘See, where we are, as far as getting to the motorway is concerned, we’re just that bit too far away.’
‘One more reason to move,’ Marina said.
Dave barked out a laugh. ‘Doesn’t matter how many reasons we’ve got if we can’t afford it.’
She turned in her seat, adjusted the seatbelt. ‘Is this about me going to the hairdresser’s?’
‘What?’ He shot her a look, panicky. ‘No …’
‘I said it was just a thought.’
‘I know—’
‘I told you it would be ridiculously expensive, that I wasn’t bothered one way or the other and you were the one who told me to go ahead and get it done.’
‘Yes, and I was right, because it looks great,’ he said. ‘You look great.’
‘You sure?’ She opened the visor again.
‘Possibly a bit too great.’ The traffic had begun to move and for the first time in ten minutes Dave managed to get the Fiat 500 into top gear. He grinned. ‘Ed starts paying too much attention, I might have to smack him one.’
Marina laughed, closed the visor. ‘Yeah, right.’
‘Did you bring your stories, by the way?’
‘No …’
‘What?’
‘I didn’t think it was such a good idea.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake … I told you.’
‘It just feels a bit pushy,’ she said. ‘Like I’m desperate, or something.’
‘That’s stupid.’ Dave’s eyes flicked to his wing-mirror. ‘They’re great stories and now we’ve met somebody who might be able to help.’
‘Look, I’m sure we’ll have to invite them round to us at some point, so why don’t I just wait and do it then?’ She leaned back and turned her head towards the passenger window. ‘Then, you know … I can just nip upstairs and get them because we’re at home, rather than looking like I’ve brought them specially.’
Dave said he supposed that would be all right, that he was only thinking of her, then leaned over to switch the radio on. They listened to the last few minutes of Loose Ends, then he retuned to a music station. He put his foot down on a clear stretch of dual carriageway between Thornton Heath and Croydon.
‘Do you really not think I’d step up?’ he asked. ‘If Ed was out of order?’
Marina appeared not to have heard the question, and said, ‘Why don’t you ever get drunk?’
‘Sorry?’
‘I mean, everyone should get pissed once in a while.’
‘Why?’
‘It doesn’t do any harm, does it?’
‘So, everyone should lose control, once in a while? Everyone should do things they’re ashamed of or embarrassed about, or that they can’t even remember?’
Marina said nothing and shifted in her seat. They drove another mile or so without saying any more.
‘I was at college with this bloke,’ Dave said. ‘He was a mate, I thought I knew him, but the first time he got really smashed I could see that he was somebody else entirely. He was ugly and aggressive. He was pathetic, you know?’ He looked across at Marina and smiled. ‘I just don’t get it, I never have. This desire to be off your face, to lose it completely. I mean I’m not trying to stop anyone enjoying themselves, but you know …’
‘What about on holiday?’
‘What about it?’
‘Weren’t you a bit drunk on the last night?’
Dave shook his head, as though he had no idea what she was talking about.
‘Come on … when we were in that flashy restaurant, the Bonefish or whatever it was. When we were all talking about that girl and what had happened. The business with the police.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘You seemed to be drinking a lot.’
‘Maybe because it was the last night.’
‘Well, there we go then.’
‘I drank no more than anybody else,’ he said. His voice was good and even and his hands were tight on the wheel. ‘And I was certainly not drunk. Not even a bit.’
‘All right, it doesn’t matter.’
Dave turned the radio up and after a while he began singing along with a song that Marina did not recognise. During the instrumental he turned to her and smiled. He said, ‘I don’t know what you’re trying to start an argument for anyway. We’re supposed to be going out to have a nice time …’
ELEVEN
The manager of the Pelican Palms was a short, weasel-faced individual named Cornell Stamoran whom Gardner did not consider one of the nicer people that the Amber-Marie Wilson case had brought him into contact with. He had hair that was suspiciously dark for a man in his fifties and today he wore a checked golf sweater over a lemon-coloured polo shirt and khakis. At least one layer too many for the June temperature outside, but Gardner guessed that Cornell Stamoran would do his very best to avoid leaving his nice, air-conditioned office unless he absolutely had to.
Stamoran stretched an arm towards the window, the pool visible beyond, the shouts and splashes clearly audible above the drone of the air-con. ‘She’s been out there since ten o’clock this morning,’ he said.
‘I know.’
‘She just sits there.’
‘Right.’
‘She doesn’t do anything.’
‘I understand your position,’ Gardner said.
‘You do?’
Gardner nodded, thinking: yes I do, because you’ve been calling us every other day for the last few weeks, whining like a little bitch and telling us your position. ‘Of course,’ he said.
‘Good, because this can’t go on.’ Stamoran opened a large ledger on his desk and began turning the pages. He shook his head and clicked his tongue. ‘We had quite a few cancellations right after the girl went missing. Families, you know?’ He waited for a reaction, acknowledged Gardner’s sympathetic look. ‘Well, I’m sure you can appreciate that what happened wasn’t exactly the best advertisement for the place, but myself and my staff are knuckling down and trying to turn it around. So, I guess what I’m saying is … the last thing we need right now is for her to be sitting out there like … what do you call it, like the spectre at the feast or something.’ He glanced towards the window, began straightening things on his desk. ‘Looking the way she does and spoiling other folks’ vacations.’
‘I’m here to talk to her,’ Gardner said.
‘I really wish you would.’
‘Well then …’
When Gardner stood up, Stamoran did the same, then came quickly around his desk to shake the detective’s hand. ‘The last thing I want is for you to think I’m unsympathetic, by the way.’
‘Of course not.’
‘What happened to that poor woman is just beyond awful. I mean, you remember that me and the rest of the staff passed the hat, right?’
‘I remember.’
‘Fifteen hundred dollars, give or take. So, you know.’
‘I’m sure she’s grateful,’ Gardner said, turning away. He heard Stamoran saying something about waiving all rental charges on Miss Wilson’s vacation cabin as he opened the door and walked out towards the pool.
Despite the manager’s concerns about how the place was doing, it certainly looked busy enough. There were half a dozen people in the water and maybe three times that number sunning themselves pool-side. Gardner could see many of them watching him over the tops of their newspapers and magazines as he walked towards the far corner of the deck. It was understandable. Not too many people favoured a grey suit in ninety-degree heat and he guessed that most of those who didn’t have him pegged as a cop would think he was a salesman of some kind. Maybe someone who had stopped by for a dip on his way to church.
He was certainly tempted.
There were as many eyes on the woman he was walking towards; the one sitting at the table in the shade beneath the coconut palm. Some clearly knew exactly who she wa
s, but Gardner could easily believe how even those to whom her identity was unknown would find something compelling about the figure at the table. Her stillness. Her total lack of interest in them. The way her dirty-white sneaker tapped against the tile, and her arm snaked slowly forward every few minutes to her plastic water bottle or cigarette pack. Just sitting in the corner, staring out across the pool towards the white-painted fence and the street beyond.
Patti was wearing denim shorts and a Budweiser T-shirt, the same Atlanta Braves baseball cap she usually had on. She was also wearing sunglasses, big ones, but Gardner saw her head shift just a fraction as he approached the table. He saw her shoulders tense. He shook his head, a small shake, just to let her know that she could relax, that he was not there to deliver news.
‘Hey, Jeff.’
‘Patti.’ He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair before he sat down. He loosened his tie. ‘Nice to be in the shade.’
‘You want some water?’
‘Sure.’
She reached down to a coolbox beneath the table and took out a small plastic bottle. ‘Got enough in there to last me the day,’ she said, handing the water over. ‘Plus a couple pieces of fruit, something for my lunch, whatever.’
Gardner opened the water, took a swig, then a deep breath. Said, ‘What’s all this for, Patti?’
‘All what?’
There appeared to be no expression, but of course he could not be sure what was happening behind those big sunglasses. ‘What good can it possibly do?’
‘I don’t have any choice.’
‘Sure you do.’
She shook her head and reached across for her cigarettes. ‘I can’t leave her.’ She took out a cigarette but the movement was fumbled. ‘You think I should leave my daughter?’
‘No. I’m just saying.’ Gardner picked up her lighter and leaned across with it. ‘Why does it have to be here?’
She sighed out smoke, looked out across the water. ‘This was the last place I saw her,’ she said.
‘I know, but—’
‘We came back from lunch and she wanted a swim, so I went back to get her swimming things from the cabin. She promised she’d wait for me right here.’ Patti Lee touched the grimy glass table-top, then spread her arms out wide. ‘I was five minutes. Five …’
‘I understand,’ Gardner said.
‘Do you?’
‘Really, I can see why this place would be … significant for you. But if she comes back …’ He caught the tilt of her head on the word if and tried not to hesitate. Tried to pretend that he didn’t mean it the way it sounded. ‘You really think she’s going to come back here? Amber-Marie’s going to come waltzing in here like she just popped out to get a candy bar?’
‘She went to get an Easter egg.’
Gardner nodded. He had heard it before. He had heard it all before.
‘When we were on the way back from lunch, she saw this egg in one of the windows. Just stood there staring at it, you know? Enormous thing, all wrapped up, shiny and red. She said she wanted it and I told her I would think about it, I mean it was like fifty dollars or something stupid like that.’
‘That’s a lot of money.’
‘Right, what the hell was I supposed to do?’
‘Patti …’
‘I think that’s what she did.’ She drew hard on her cigarette, leaning towards Gardner and nodding fast. ‘No … I’m sure it is. I don’t even know if she would have remembered the way, but the fact of it is, Amber-Marie walked out of here to go back to that shop, like they were just gonna give that stupid Easter egg to her if she told them she wanted it. She never quite understood that life wasn’t like that, you know? That people wouldn’t just hand stuff over if you asked them nicely.’ She turned away and took off her sunglasses, just long enough to wipe a finger across each eye, for Gardner to see just how red and wet they were. ‘You didn’t come over for a chit-chat, did you, Jeff?’
‘You need to get yourself home now,’ Gardner said.
She looked at him for a few seconds, then stubbed out her cigarette. The ashtray needed emptying. ‘Is this about the cost of the motel?’
‘No.’
‘You sure?’
‘It’s nothing to do with the money,’ he said.
‘Because, you know, flashy joint like that, I certainly don’t want to be responsible for bankrupting the city.’
Gardner shook his head, loosened his tie a little more. The Police Department had been paying for the room over at the Brigadoon Suites since the day Amber-Marie had disappeared. It was far from being the most expensive place in town and if the powers-that-be were starting to grumble about the cost, he had certainly not heard anything. The city was not stumping up for any kind of day-to-day expenses though, at least not as far as he was aware, and he was curious.
‘What are you living on?’
‘I had some spending money left,’ she said. ‘Plus the cash that the manager here raised for me. He’s been very kind, you know? Very supportive.’
‘Right.’
‘’Sides which, I don’t need much.’
‘It’s going to run out.’
‘I know that, which is why I was thinking I might get a job.’ She nodded towards the street. ‘One of the restaurants or bars maybe. I’ve worked in plenty of bars.’
‘It’s no good,’ Gardner said.
‘What isn’t?’
‘You need to be at home, Patti.’ He leaned towards her. He thought just for a moment about putting a hand on her arm, then decided not to. ‘You need to be around the people that care about you.’
‘Which people might they be, Jeff?’
Gardner knew that neither of Patti’s parents was close to home, that there were no siblings. He knew that Amber-Marie’s father had long since left the picture and could not even be sure that the man knew his daughter had gone missing. ‘There must be someone,’ he said.
‘You would think.’
‘You seeing anyone down here?’ The manager at the Brigadoon Suites had told him a couple of weeks before that a man had been seen leaving Patti Lee Wilson’s room on more than one occasion. Different men maybe, the manager could not be certain. Gardner had not been overly concerned. He could hardly begrudge the woman seeking a little comfort after what she had been through and clearly any man she had met since her daughter had disappeared could not reasonably be considered a suspect.
‘Nobody worth talking about,’ she said.
So, nobody who might be interested in taking her back to Atlanta and caring for her. Equally though, nobody worth staying in Sarasota for. ‘It’s time for you to go, Patti.’
She swallowed and shook her head, but now there was little vehemence in it. ‘I can’t leave her.’
‘You won’t be leaving her,’ he said. ‘Because she’s in your heart.’ She nodded, slowly. ‘And while you’re back at home where you should be, I want you to know that I’m here for Amber-Marie one hundred per cent, whatever happens.’
She looked at him. Whispered, ‘You swear? Because I would need to know that.’
‘I swear. Finding your daughter is my number one commitment, that’s the plain truth, and any news, you will be the first to know. I can guarantee that.’
‘That’s good to know.’
‘So, I want you to think about what I said, OK? I really want you to think about going home.’
This time she did not even bother taking the sunglasses off, just pushed a finger up behind each lens. ‘Fifty dollars isn’t so much,’ she said, her voice catching. ‘I should have just bought her that stupid egg, shouldn’t I?’
TWELVE
Ed appeared in the bedroom doorway holding up two shirts.
‘Which do you think?’
Sue was sitting at the dressing table in black bra and panties. She glanced in the mirror, then switched off the hairdryer and turned. ‘Either’s fine,’ she said. ‘They’re both great.’ She looked back to the mirror, watched as Ed tossed the shirts on
to the bed. ‘You’d better get a shift on.’
‘We’ve got bags of time,’ he said. ‘An hour tops to get there, I reckon.’ He sat down on the edge of the bed behind her and unbuttoned his shirt. He kicked his loafers off, lay back and unzipped his jeans.
Sue thought the journey would be more like an hour and a half, but said nothing. She switched the hairdryer back on.
‘What do you think the house will be like?’ Ed shouted.
She switched the hairdryer off again. ‘What?’
‘The house? Angie and Barry’s.’
Sue thought about it. ‘Blimey, I’ve got no idea. Modern … uncluttered. Very clean, I’m guessing. She struck me as a bit of a clean freak.’
‘Big TV, definitely.’
‘We’ve got a big TV,’ Sue said.
‘Yeah, but ridiculously big. You know how it works … the less taste the people have got, the bigger the screen. Fifty-inch plasma to watch Deal or No Deal. Surround sound speakers so they don’t miss any of the dialogue on EastEnders.’
‘Garden gnomes?’
‘Every chance,’ Ed said. ‘And some of those little stone animals on the patio. Oh, and I bet you they’ve got one of those signs over the front door, with the name of the house made up from their own names.’
‘Definitely,’ Sue said. She rubbed moisturiser into her hands.
‘Barrangela.’
‘Angelarry.’
Ed laughed: dry and fast. ‘Just like their ridiculous email address,’ he said. ‘Angiebaz, for God’s sake …’
In the mirror, Sue watched as her husband stood up, wearing only his underpants, and took the step across to stand behind her chair. She saw the look on his face. She turned.
‘Really?’
‘Bags of time.’
He reached down for her arm and lifted her from the chair. She was breathing heavily as he eased the thin straps from her shoulders, ran his hands across them, then pushed her down on to her knees. As soon as she had removed his underpants, he moved his feet apart a little to steady himself. Took a handful of damp hair into his fist.
Said, ‘Do it.’
They were no more than a few feet away from the window and, looking down, Ed could see a woman walking a dog on the far side of the road. He watched her as he pushed his hips forward, willing the dog-walker to glance up and see him, but she did not.
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