by Luca Veste
‘Have to go a bit further north of the city to find those supporting this lot.’
‘He must have been popular round here, though,’ Murphy said, trying the door handle and knocking on the glass when it didn’t open. ‘He’s going to win, if the opinion polls are to be believed. The Echo reckon he’s going to piss it.’
‘Probably got the young vote. Good-looking fella with a local vibe.’
The blinds were pulled back a little, revealing not much inside, before a lock turned within and the door was opened. A young woman, barely into her twenties, peered out at them.
‘Can I help you?’
Murphy could hardly detect any Liverpudlian in her accent – in fact, almost no trace of any accent at all. He introduced himself and Rossi and they were shepherded swiftly inside.
‘Sorry about that. We can’t have just anyone swanning in from off the street, can we?’
Murphy smirked but didn’t respond, instead looking around at the office. An older woman was working at one of the two desks which stood in the centre of the room while several filing cabinets lined the far wall. Every surface was covered in piles of paperwork. Numerous framed newspaper articles and photographs hung on the walls. An enlarged picture of an instantly recognisable Sam Byrne, beaming proudly next to an even more well-known figure, took pride of place.
‘Friends in high places,’ Murphy said, gesturing towards the photograph. ‘Never met the PM myself. I’ve heard he wishes us well though. Just before another cut arrives.’
Redness spread across the woman’s face, pockmarked cheeks losing their initial porcelain quality. ‘This is Emma Palmer, she runs accounts.’
Murphy nodded towards the older woman who barely looked up from the computer screen in front of her.
‘I’m Charlotte. I’m Sam’s assistant.’
Of course she’s a Charlotte, Murphy thought. ‘Mr Byrne’s disappearance has been passed onto us,’ he said. ‘So is there somewhere Mr Byrne usually works from, on his own, I mean?’
‘Just through here,’ Charlotte replied, walking away. ‘Spends most of his time in his office in the back. We haven’t really been in since he . . . since he didn’t come in on Friday. He left here on Thursday, but no one has seen him after . . . after I saw him last.’
Rossi stopped Charlotte from stepping into the office, the door was ajar and a little light entered from a window inside. ‘Wait here,’ she said, mirroring Murphy’s actions and snapping a pair of gloves over her hands. ‘Just a precaution.’
‘You think something’s happened in his office?’ Charlotte said, the tone of her voice changing for the first time. ‘We would have known, surely?’
Murphy pushed open the office door a fraction more, surveying the room before entering. ‘As DS Rossi said, it’s just a precaution.’
‘It can’t be something that happened in our offices,’ Charlotte said, her voice lower now, almost as if she was speaking to herself. ‘We would have known.’
Murphy turned and looked towards her, seeing only the crown of her head as she stared at the floor.
‘Laura, do you want to ask Charlotte some questions while I get on in here?’
Rossi gave him a nod and guided Charlotte out. Murphy turned back to the office and crossed the room to the window. He lifted the blinds, the room instantly becoming lighter as a result.
Murphy looked across at the desk, noting the seemingly teetering pile of paperwork, the masses of Post-it notes and the bulging folders on the floor.
Tried to work out where the hell he should start.
Four
Rossi had that feeling once again. A sense of something coming towards her, an impending awfulness. The emptiness lying at the pit of her stomach. Talking to the missing councillor’s assistant wasn’t helping. The confusion and helplessness emanating from the woman beginning to annoy rather than aid.
‘I just don’t understand,’ Charlotte said, her hands palm up in front of her, before being tucked away again as she folded her arms. ‘He’s never done anything like this before.’
‘What’s his normal day like,’ Rossi said, opening her notebook and waiting. ‘How busy is he usually? What does he do?’
Charlotte leaned back against the counter. ‘Should I put the kettle on?’
Rossi shook her head but didn’t speak. She waited for Charlotte to start.
‘He’s very busy at the moment,’ Charlotte finally said with a sigh. ‘He has a lot of meetings, for a start, then there’s all the door-to-doors he’s doing. There’s hustings with the other candidates. He has a lot going on.’
‘I’m sure he does. Do people come here or does he hold meetings elsewhere?’
‘All the planning happens here and at the party HQ in town, but he has the occasional meet and greet in these offices. He has to speak to local businesses often and they come here to speak with him. Everyone is concerned about the downturn in the local economy and that sort of thing. We have a lot of people here usually. Campaigns involve a huge number of volunteers. It’s just me and Emma that are here full-time. He’s keen to begin work on bringing this town back to its former glory.’
Rossi listened as Charlotte outlined more parts of their normal working day, becoming less and less interested as the young girl spoke. She resolved never to take a job in politics.
‘How about frequent visitors, does Sam have people who come to see him often? Maybe unconnected to what you would consider to be work purposes?’
Charlotte paused, then looked away. Rossi’s eyes narrowed a little as she waited for a response.
‘No one I can think of right now.’
Rossi was silent for a few seconds, then made a note on her pad.
Come back to visitors
‘How well liked is he in the area? With local businesses, that kind of thing?’
Charlotte perked up a little. ‘Oh, very popular. We’re doing exceedingly well with local business owners. He’s keen to push for better parking regulations, so people can drive here and not worry about being ticketed. That helps out the shops a lot, gets people in the area again. He’s very good with people, listens to their concerns and will act on them when he becomes a Member of Parliament.’
There was a pause, then a shake of her head.
‘He’s a good man. We are all part of his team. We’re here to make a difference, you know? To get Britain working again, the way it should. He was all about that. He’s been that way all his life.’
Rossi nodded, noting down Charlotte’s words, feeling like she was listening to a party political broadcast. ‘He’s young, though. Anyone have an issue with someone of his age coming in and making changes?’
Charlotte hesitated again before answering. ‘That’s just politics. You have the old guard, those who want to keep things the same as it’s always been. Then you have someone like Sam, who gets how young people think and understands the problems facing those struggling with their own businesses, and he really listens to them. Some people don’t like that. It can get heated sometimes, but all politics is like that.’
‘Yeah, I’ve watched Prime Minister’s Questions a few times,’ Rossi said, attempting a smile. ‘They sound like children when they’re making those noises from the benches.’
Charlotte did smile back, a flash of perfect white teeth, before pursing her lips once more. ‘As I said, it’s how it’s always been. Sam wants to change all that. You know, really listen to people.’
‘Sounds like a Tory version of Jeremy Corbyn.’
‘Well, maybe he is. Or will be. That’s if he’s OK, of course.’ Charlotte’s bottom lip quivered a touch, before she turned away from Rossi and faced the kitchen counter. ‘I think I’ll have a cup of tea. Are you sure you won’t have one?’
It was Rossi’s turn to hesitate. ‘Have you got coffee?’
* * *
Murphy moved yet another pile of paperwork, wondering if this was going to be the highlight of his day. Tidying up some posh get’s office. A posh get playing
at being a politician while getting a nice cheque from his parents every month at that, he assumed. He sifted through some of the sheets of paper on top of the pile, but quickly grew bored of reading the minutes of some meeting or other.
DC Hale can go through everything in here, he thought. Just to piss him off a little. Then decided against the idea, imagining the answer to lie somewhere in the mess, completely missed by the young detective constable. Probably whilst he was styling his hair for the twentieth time of the day.
‘You won’t find anything in there,’ a voice from the doorway said, interrupting his thoughts. ‘He never keeps it in any kind of good order. I’m always telling him he should file things away, but he prefers to just dump it all on the floor.’
Murphy turned to see the woman who had been sat in the outside office when they’d arrived. ‘Emma, is it?’
The woman nodded, but made no move to enter the office.
‘I’m guessing you mean this is all just rubbish then,’ Murphy said, gesturing to the other piles of paperwork. ‘Nothing of interest at all?’
‘He keeps anything important in his briefcase. Everything else is by email these days. His desktop is on, but he preferred to use his laptop.’
Murphy looked around, trying to remember if he’d seen a laptop on his cursory glances around the room. ‘Let me guess,’ he said, turning back to Emma. ‘That’s usually in his briefcase as well?’
‘No,’ Emma replied, the unmistakeable lines on her upperlip creasing. A smoker, Murphy thought. ‘He has a nice little bag for that.’
Murphy suppressed a huff. ‘We’ve been to his house up in Blundellsands. Didn’t see a laptop or a briefcase there. Is he the type of person who would leave that sort of thing lying around, forgetful, maybe leave it on a train? I’ve seen politicians do that sort of thing.’
Emma almost smiled. ‘No. He was very protective of that sort of item. He knew the importance of keeping confidential information safe.’
Murphy scratched at his beard, wondering what was being left unsaid. ‘I can’t imagine he gets paid all that much for the work he does here. Does he have another job or something?’
Emma shook her head. ‘Devotes all his time to the campaign. His house was left to him. A family member, I seem to recall. An aunt, or grandparent. So he doesn’t need to worry about paying the mortgage.’
Murphy figured as much. Money goes to money. ‘So, help me out here. We’ve been to the house, which didn’t look lived in all that much. And we’ve been here, where there’s nothing of note according to you.’
Emma faltered for a second, then seemed to compose herself. ‘I’m not sure what Mr Byrne does in his spare time. I just run through the accounts, the expenses, that type of work here. We work on speeches, how he presents himself publicly, all of those things. I don’t run his personal life. I suppose if you want to read through those files you would need some sort of order or something?’
‘I imagine so,’ Murphy replied, finally understanding what she was driving at. ‘Unless we suspect a danger to life, in which case we can go ahead and take them with us. What do you think, Emma? Do you believe Sam’s life may be in danger?’
‘I wouldn’t presume anything, detective,’ Emma said, fixing Murphy with a stare. ‘Of course, that’s not my job. All I can say is that this behaviour is very out of the ordinary for him. I can’t imagine what would keep him away for this length of time without being in touch and letting us know if all is OK, or not, as the case may be.’
Murphy nodded and stood up fully. His knees and back clicked as he did so, whilst he swallowed back a noise. ‘Thank you. You’ve been a great help.’
He waited for her to leave before pulling out his phone. ‘Kirkham, I want you to come up to Waterloo.’ Murphy rattled off the address to the DC. ‘Bring some evidence boxes. There’s a lot to take away.’
* * *
‘So, what are you thinking?’ Rossi said, once they were both back in the car. They had parked around the corner to make it a little easier for Kirkham and a uniform to lug the boxes of files to their own vehicle. ‘Something isn’t right, I know that much, but what?’
‘That older woman, Emma, she was trying to tell me something. Without actually telling me, more’s the pity.’
‘Well, let’s bring her in. See if we can get her to talk. Isn’t that what we usually do?’
Murphy swigged back some water from the bottle he’d taken from the office. It was lukewarm with a bit of an aftertaste, but it was enough to quench his thirst. ‘I don’t think she’s the type to cave under questioning. I think she’s sworn to keep her mouth shut about all kinds of secret things. I suppose every politician needs someone like her. Someone willing to say nothing, even when someone like us comes calling.’
‘Sounds almost like you admire her for it?’
‘You don’t?’
Murphy waited for Rossi as she picked up his bottle of water, gave it a look and then placed it back down in the holder. ‘Doesn’t make our job much easier, that’s all. The guy has gone missing, seemingly without trace, and she stonewalls us. Surely she should be helping us out as much as possible?’
‘Yeah, but there’s still some kind of code or something. I guess she’s not sure that he hasn’t gone missing of his own accord. It’s only been a few days, remember. Which tells me that she knows something about the way he lives outside of this world.’
Rossi raised an eyebrow. ‘Something we need to know then. A young politician, good looking enough to get what he wants. We’re always hearing gossip about politicians. Those bastardos don’t seem to have any limit. We could be looking at literally anything here.’
‘True, which makes things more difficult,’ Murphy replied, taking out his phone and scrolling down his contacts list. ‘Doesn’t mean we won’t find out, though. Someone will be willing to talk. There’s always at least one.’
Rossi hummed under her breath as Murphy put the phone to his ear and waited for an answer. ‘Graham, it’s Murphy,’ he said once DC Harris answered. ‘Listen, I need as much background info on Sam Byrne as you can find . . . Yeah, including stuff we shouldn’t know about . . . No, as quietly as possible . . . Boss doesn’t want this getting out too far . . . Cheers, mate.’
Rossi waited for him to end the call on the phone before speaking. ‘What’s your gut telling you?’
‘Not sure,’ Murphy replied, wondering if the sight of a uniformed copper outside Byrnes’s office was too much. He was supposed to be keeping things under the radar and a uniform going in and out of the guy’s office removing stuff was probably not the best idea. ‘Something feels dodgy about the whole thing. I think there’s something we’re not aware of right now.’
‘I agree, for what it’s worth. I think something’s happened to the guy. Someone in the public eye like this, they don’t just bugger off for a long weekend or more and not tell even an assistant. That house wasn’t right and there’s something off about those two women in his office.’
Murphy didn’t reply, staring out of the car windscreen towards a bookshop on the opposite side of the road. ‘Seems well liked in the community from what I can gather. The shops around here are dying a death and he’s promised them all kinds. If he can do even a little bit to help them, I can’t imagine he’s disliked, even if he is a Tory. Seems like he was heading for the top as well.’
‘Another career politician,’ Rossi said, tutting to herself. ‘At least this one didn’t go to that Eton.’
Murphy smirked then started the car up. ‘Silver linings,’ he said, taking the handbrake off and pulling out onto the road. ‘That’s why I like you, Laura. You always see the positive.’
‘It’s the only way to get through the day.’
‘Agreed. Now let’s go and see his parents. Finally.’
Five
Murphy checked the address on the sheet once more before handing it back to Rossi. He tried fiddling with the satnav again, but gave up when he spotted Rossi pulling out her phone.
>
‘It needs updating or something,’ Murphy said, turning the thing off and resisting the urge to throw it out of the window. ‘Have you found it?’
‘Yeah,’ Rossi replied, squinting at her phone. ‘Go to the end of Sefton Lane and I’ll direct you from there.’
‘Ever been to Aughton? Can’t remember if we’ve ever had a job that far out together.’
‘Probably at some point. Maghull isn’t far from it and I’ve definitely been there. Can’t remember offhand.’
‘It’s barely Liverpool anyway,’ Murphy said, accelerating along the A road and passing a slow-moving car. ‘Near enough Ormskirk. Edge Hill Uni is just round the corner, but that’s about it. There’s not much going on from what I remember. Not quite Formby, but near enough.’
They reached the edge of the city, the suburban area revealing itself once again. More tree-lined roads and large houses. Murphy sometimes forgot that the house he now lived in could probably match up to any here. His days on a council estate in south Liverpool now long behind him.
‘Have you got the names of the parents there?’ Murphy said, waiting for traffic to pass by before turning left onto Green Lane. ‘I know his name, obviously, but I don’t know the wife.’
‘Arthur and Mary. She’s the second wife, I imagine, as he must be getting near eighty now. Sam Byrne is only twenty-six, so even allowing for a late pregnancy, she can’t be more than sixty odd. Seem to recall something about it, but I don’t tend to keep up with ex-MPs’ family lives.’
Murphy nodded and turned right towards Maghull and then onto Liverpool Lane North, away from the more familiar town and further north. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t be right if the whole city looked like this. For a start, I think we’d lose our status as part of that northern powerhouse that’s always talked about but never appears.’
‘It would be difficult to make certain parts of the city look like this,’ Rossi replied, checking her phone screen again and pointing to the right. ‘You’d have to move the locals about as well while you were at it. Can’t imagine that would go too well.’