Dead Weight

by Frank Smith

  Molly looked up from her notes. ‘So you weren’t here when Justine left for church on Sunday morning, Mr Lorrimer?’

  ‘No. As I said, I stayed in Worcester overnight, and arrived back here just in time to pick up Julia before going on to church ourselves. We went to the ten o’clock service at All Saints’.’

  Tregalles frowned. ‘Would you mind telling us why you went to Worcester on Saturday, when Mr Baxter’s train didn’t leave till noon on Sunday?’ he asked. ‘I mean it’s barely an hour’s drive.’

  ‘Is that relevant?’ asked Lorrimer. ‘I don’t see what my visit to Worcester has to do with Justine’s disappearance?’

  ‘We don’t know what may prove to be relevant at this point,’ Tregalles conceded. ‘From what we’ve been told about Justine, though, her disappearance is totally out of character. So, if she is as devoted to your son as we’re told, I can’t see her staying away this long without so much as a phone call … at least, not voluntarily.’

  Lorrimer’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m still not sure I see the relevance,’ he said. ‘What, exactly, are you saying, Sergeant?’

  ‘I’m saying, sir, that, while we can still hope that Justine will turn up safe and sound, we have to treat her disappearance as suspicious. If she did leave voluntarily, she may have said something to someone about where she was going. On the other hand, if Justine is being detained against her will, we can’t rule out the possibility that someone she knows is involved. So, the sooner we can establish where everyone was, their relationship with Justine and what they were doing when she left here on Sunday morning, the sooner we can eliminate them from our enquiries … or not.’

  ‘Well, that’s certainly plain enough,’ Lorrimer said tightly. He flicked a look at Molly with her hand poised above her notebook, then turned back to face Tregalles. ‘Very well, then,’ he said. ‘As you may or may not know, there is to be a by-election in Worcester later this year, and they have an unusually large number of candidates jockeying for the nomination. So the local committee arranged an informal gathering last Saturday afternoon, to meet and get acquainted with the aspiring candidates. To put it bluntly, it was to winnow the wheat from the chaff, and I was invited to attend and offer my thoughts on their various strengths and weaknesses to the committee. It’s by no means the deciding factor in the ultimate selection, but it does help to narrow the field. Following that, there was a dinner, to which Terry and I were invited, and the inevitable drinking session followed. Terry was staying over because he had to catch his train the next morning, so I decided to stay on as well. I hadn’t had that much to drink, but I thought it best not to take a chance of being picked up for drink driving on the way home, so I phoned Julia to let her know so she wouldn’t worry when I didn’t turn up.’

  ‘The name of the hotel?’ Molly prompted. ‘If you don’t mind, sir?’ She indicated her notes.

  ‘The Raebourne,’ he said, spelling it out while giving Molly a look that said she was trying his patience. ‘It’s a small hotel just off the Oxford Road, and, yes, before you ask, I can give you the names of more than half a dozen people who will verify that I was there.’

  ‘That would be very helpful,’ Tregalles broke in quickly before Molly could reply. ‘Perhaps you could let us have them before we leave. But I’d like to get back to last Saturday lunchtime. Can you tell us what you and Justine talked about?’

  Lorrimer frowned into the distance as if picturing the scene in his mind. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I don’t think I had more than a dozen words with Justine all through lunch. Julia and I were talking about my brother and his family coming to dinner on Sunday, so it was Terry who was doing all the talking to Justine. He spent a month in Manila during his gap year, and he was trying to impress her with his knowledge of the Philippines. I think he was quite smitten with her, but he was pushing it a bit.’

  ‘How would you say Justine responded?’ Tregalles asked.

  ‘I think she was embarrassed,’ said Lorrimer. ‘Young Terry had been trying to engage her in conversation every chance he got from the time he arrived here, and I think she was getting tired of it. She’d tried to be polite, but I think she was glad to see him leave.’

  Molly looked up from her notes. ‘This may sound ridiculous,’ she said hesitantly, ‘but is it possible that Justine was interested in Terry, but for some reason didn’t like to show it, and the two of them have gone off somewhere together?’

  Lorrimer scoffed at the idea. ‘Justine was definitely not interested in Terry,’ he said firmly, ‘so I think you can safely forget that line of enquiry.’

  ‘No doubt you’re right, sir,’ said Molly diplomatically. ‘Alternatively, Justine may have said something to him about what she would be doing at the weekend to put him off. As you said yourself, they were talking together for quite some time, so I think we should at least find out what they talked about.’

  ‘It was Terry who was doing all the talking,’ Lorrimer countered.

  ‘Even so—’ Molly began, only to be cut off by Tregalles.

  ‘The fact is, Mr Lorrimer, that if there is even the slightest chance that Justine told Baxter something of consequence, then we need to talk to him. Do you have an address or phone number where he can be reached?’

  Tregalles had been quite happy to let Molly ask a few questions, but he had no intention of letting her take over. As a newly appointed detective sergeant, he knew she was anxious to make a good impression, and he didn’t object to that, but there was no need for her to be quite so aggressive. He liked Molly; they had worked well together when she was a DC, but things were different now. Molly Forsythe wasn’t just a colleague and friend; DS Forsythe was the competition, because there wasn’t room for two detective sergeants on Paget’s team. One of them would have to move. Normally, it would be up to Molly to seek a posting, but Paget had been relying on her more and more for some time now, and Tregalles couldn’t help wondering if he was being nudged aside.

  His wife, Audrey, had scoffed at the idea. ‘Mr Paget’s always done right by you,’ she had reminded him, ‘and Molly’s not one to go behind your back. Besides, if you carry on with the course and become an inspector, it will all work out for the best anyway. You’ll see, love.’

  But Tregalles wasn’t convinced. Sometimes promotion did strange things to people, and even friends could change.

  ‘I don’t have the address where he’s staying,’ Lorrimer was saying, ‘but no matter where Terry is, he never turns his phone off, so I’ll give you his number.’ He consulted his BlackBerry, then wrote down a number on the back of a business card and passed it across the desk to Tregalles. The sergeant glanced at it briefly, then handed it to Molly, who slipped it between the pages of her notebook.

  ‘Do you know if Justine attended mass regularly, sir?’ Molly asked. ‘Or was she going because it was Easter Sunday?’

  Lorrimer stared at her for several seconds, brow furrowed as if he didn’t understand the question; when he did speak, he seemed to have to force the words out. ‘Justine goes to mass every Sunday,’ he said. ‘She takes her religion very seriously indeed.’

  Molly thought about the crucifix, wrapped and hidden away in a drawer upstairs, and wondered again why it wasn’t out in plain sight. ‘And, from what we’ve heard about her character, she is normally truthful and trustworthy?’ she asked.

  Lorrimer bristled. ‘I thought that had been made very clear,’ he said. ‘Just what are you driving at, Sergeant …?’

  ‘Forsythe, sir,’ Molly supplied. ‘It’s just that I can’t help wondering why someone who takes her religion seriously would lie to your wife about who she was going to see that day. Do you have any thoughts about that, sir?’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ Lorrimer said coldly, ‘and I’m as mystified as you, because it is not like Justine at all.’

  Molly was about to ask another question, but Tregalles intervened by saying, ‘There is one other avenue I’d like to explore, sir. I hope there’s nothing to it, but it is ju
st possible that Justine has been abducted, so I have to ask if you have been contacted by anyone demanding money for her safe return?’

  Lorrimer squinted at the sergeant as if he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing. ‘That’s preposterous,’ he said dismissively. ‘You can’t be serious?’

  ‘As I said, sir, I sincerely hope that is not the case, but I don’t think we can dismiss it out of hand. You are in the public eye, you are a relatively wealthy man, and, apart from anything else, it would be very hard on your son if anything happened to Justine. So, I must ask you again: has there been any contact?’

  ‘Absolutely not! And from what little I know about such matters, isn’t contacting the police the last thing we would do if we had received a demand? The whole idea is absurd!’

  ‘Absurd or not, the fact of the matter is that Justine Delgado has been missing now for more than forty-eight hours, and both you and your wife tell us that it is completely out of character. So we can’t discount anything until proven otherwise. As for contacting the police, it was your wife who came to us, and we assume she did so in good faith. But that’s not to say that you have not been contacted and, for whatever reason, didn’t tell Mrs Lorrimer. I’m not suggesting that is the case, but I am asking you to tell us now if you have been holding anything back?’

  ‘No, I have not, and you’ll just have to take my word for it.’ Lorrimer pushed his chair back as if preparing to stand, then appeared to change his mind. He slumped down in his seat and pressed his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry if I sound boorish; I know you have a job to do, I know you have to ask these questions, but these past few days have been extremely stressful.’ He drew in a long breath and let it out again slowly. ‘So, now what happens?’

  ‘Do you have CCTV cameras covering the approaches to the house?’ Tregalles asked.

  ‘No,’ said Lorrimer wearily. ‘Jim Bradley was pushing the idea because of what happened to the member from Birmingham Selly Oak last year, but we’ve never had any trouble here, so I didn’t think we needed it. Perhaps I should have listened to him.’

  ‘Can’t anticipate everything,’ Tregalles said solicitously as he got to his feet. ‘And thank you for your time, sir.’

  Lorrimer came out from behind his desk. ‘So where are you going now?’ he asked.

  ‘We’ll split up,’ Tregalles replied, ignoring the look of surprise on Molly’s face. They’d come in his car, and he was leaving her here with the evidence bag and whatever else she might find in the classroom, but he needed the car, and she could always call the office and get someone to pick her up. ‘DS Forsythe will go back upstairs to look for Justine’s computer, and anything else that might prove useful, while I’ll be talking to the priest at St Joseph’s to see if he remembers seeing Justine at mass last Sunday. But before we go, is there anyone else here in the house we should be talking to? I heard you mention someone called Carole, and Jim Bradley. And I believe Sylvia mentioned someone called Betty. Are they here now?’

  ‘Carole used to work here, but she left long before Justine came to work for us,’ Lorrimer explained. ‘We call her in from time to time, as I did today, when we need an extra hand, but this is the first time she has been in the office for months, so I don’t think she will be able to help you. As for Jim, the only time he’s here on a regular basis is when we are gearing up for an election, and while I’m sure he knows who Justine is, I don’t think their paths have crossed more than half a dozen times, if that. As for Betty Jacobs, our housekeeper and cook, you can give it a try, but she’s as deaf as a post, and “independent”, if you know what I mean, so a conversation with Betty is usually limited to basic instructions about what we’ll be having for dinner.’

  Molly tucked her notebook in her bag, then slung it over her shoulder and picked up the evidence bag. ‘And Sebastian Mills?’ she prompted as they walked to the door. ‘Would he be available, Mr Lorrimer?’

  ‘He’s … not here at the moment,’ Lorrimer said after a moment’s hesitation. ‘In fact, I’m not sure where he is. To be honest, I don’t think he can tell you any more than Julia and I have told you. He’s only been here a few days.’

  Tregalles took out a card. ‘We’d still like to talk to him,’ he said, ‘so perhaps you would ask him to give us a call when he returns. And if you should happen to think of anything that might help, no matter how insignificant it might seem, please give us a call at that number, day or night. And thank you for your patience, Mr Lorrimer. We will be in touch.’

  ‘And I’d appreciate it if you could have those names for me when I’m finished upstairs,’ Molly prompted gently. ‘The people you were with in Worcester on Saturday, if you don’t mind, sir?’

  FIVE

  ‘Will you please tell me exactly how you managed to get yourself involved in what appears to be a routine missing person case, Neil?’ Detective Superintendent Amanda Pierce slipped off her reading glasses and sat back in her chair. She looked comfortable in that chair, thought Paget, which was more than he would have said when she’d first taken the job eight months ago – the job that everyone, including himself, thought would be his following the departure of the late Detective Superintendent Thomas Alcott. She had faced hostility and resentment on every side, and the fact that Paget held her responsible for the death of his late wife’s younger brother, and had arrived like a ghost from the past, had not made things any easier. But Amanda had fought back. He’d learned the truth about his brother-in-law’s death, and he had to give her credit for the way she’d tackled the job. Even Chief Superintendent Morgan Brock, with his seemingly never-ending sniping, using figures from his beloved charts and graphs for bullets, had grudgingly acknowledged that she had met and, in some cases, surpassed most of his arbitrary targets.

  ‘According to the overnight activity report,’ Pierce continued, ‘you told PC Mercer that you would deal with it personally before he’d even had a chance to put it into the system. Do you not have enough to do down there as it is?’

  ‘I know it’s not much of an excuse,’ said Paget, ‘but I was more or less ambushed by Julia Lorrimer as I was coming in this morning. She didn’t strike me as the sort of person who panics easily, but she was certainly worried when she spoke to me. According to her, Justine Delgado is a very responsible young woman, and this is totally out of character. I didn’t like the sound of it, so I sent Tregalles and Forsythe over to Simla House to take a look at the missing woman’s room and talk to—’

  ‘Both of them?’ Pierce broke in. ‘Was that really necessary?’

  ‘I thought it might save time in the long run,’ Paget replied. ‘Tregalles is perfectly capable of interviewing Lorrimer and anyone else in the house, but I sent Forsythe along because she has a keen eye for detail, and I thought she might spot something in Justine Delgado’s room that might not register in quite the same way with Tregalles.’

  Amanda Pierce eyed him thoughtfully. ‘Are you quite sure you’re not giving the case – if there is a case – special treatment because Stephen Lorrimer is an MP?’

  ‘I’ll admit it had a bearing,’ Paget conceded, ‘but I wasn’t so much concerned about Stephen Lorrimer being an MP as I was about the fact that he is also a very rich man. And, if this young woman is so highly thought of by the Lorrimers, and so important to the wellbeing of their son, I couldn’t dismiss the possibility of an abduction.’

  ‘Possibly set up by Justine Delgado herself,’ Pierce suggested. ‘She lied about where she was going to spend the day when she left the house on Sunday morning, which Mrs Lorrimer says is totally out of character, so Delgado was clearly up to something. Which makes her disappearance all the more suspicious. Perhaps you were right to send Forsythe along as well. Have you heard back from either of them yet?’

  ‘I have,’ Paget said. ‘As far as the abduction theory is concerned, Stephen Lorrimer insists that he hasn’t been contacted, and both Tregalles and Forsythe believe he’s telling the truth. Tregall
es is going on to St Joseph’s to see if the priest remembers seeing Justine at the early-morning mass last Sunday, and Forsythe is still at the house. They found nothing in Justine’s room to indicate where she might have gone, so Forsythe is searching the classroom, which is where Justine and the boy spend much of their time. She’s looking for Justine’s laptop and anything else that might tell us where she’s gone. Meanwhile, I’ll have someone get started on checking phone records, bank statements and so on.’ Paget glanced at his watch. ‘Tregalles said he’ll be going on to talk to Justine’s friend at the hospital after he’s finished at St Joseph’s, but I’m wondering if it might save time if I—’

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ Pierce warned, reading his mind. ‘Leave the man alone. I know how much you’d like to get out there yourself, but unless you think he needs your support in the field, let him get on with it. And if he does need your support, then I would question your judgement in encouraging him to take the inspector’s exam. Has he said how he’s getting on with his studies?’

  ‘It took him a while to get used to studying again, as you know, but he tells me that his wife, Audrey, has taken to working with him, and that has helped a lot. He said she’s getting to know the material so well that she might sit the exam herself, and she wondered if we would take her on if she passed.’

  Pierce’s mouth twitched. ‘I’m not sure we are quite ready for two Tregalleses on the team,’ she said, ‘but it’s nice to know that he has her support.’

  The phone rang. Paget shot an enquiring glance at Pierce, who shook her head and dismissed him with a wave of the hand. ‘But keep me informed,’ she said as she picked up the phone.

  Church Street was well named, with the Baptists at one end, Anglicans at the other, and the Roman Catholics roughly in the middle. St Joseph’s looked quite small, hemmed in as it was by the post office on one side and a three-storied house converted into offices on the other. Built of brick and stone, and with a steeple higher than its neighbours, however, it had managed to hold its own.