by Ian Martyn
‘Only that she left them when Sarah was very young and that she and her dad haven’t seen her since.’
‘Does she ever talk about her?’
Susie shook her head. ‘No, not really. Once or twice when she’s heard me speaking to my mum, she’s said something like, “It must be nice to have a mum”. But then she’s got her dad, and I think they’re close.’
‘Do you know if she’s ever tried to find her mother?’
‘I don’t think so. Once she showed me a picture of her that’s on the net from about ten years ago, but that’s about it.’
‘So she’s not tried to contact her and her mother hasn’t been in touch?’
Susie shook her head again. ‘Not that I know of.’
Kirby nodded. ‘Thanks. And no one’s been hanging around outside the flat? Or anything else that didn’t feel right to you?’
‘Feel right?’
‘Yes, you know. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but…’
Susie shook her head. ‘Sorry, nothing I can think of. Only that the shoes were there, of course.’
The inspector looked across at Constable Barker and shook his head. She then smiled at Susie.
‘If we have any more questions, we’ll get back to you,’ the constable said as she got out of her chair and held the door for Susie. ‘Thank you, you’ve been very helpful,’ she added, although Susie couldn’t see how anything she’d been able to tell her could help in finding Sarah.
‘Are you alright for getting home?’
‘Yes, thanks. I might do a bit of shopping since I’m in town.’
Outside, Susie glanced up at the sky. Threatening, dark clouds were rolling in. She groaned. It looked as if they might have a thunderstorm and there she was in just a T-shirt and thin jacket with no umbrella. That made her mind up, to abandon the shopping trip and head back to the flat. She quickened her pace and headed for the metro in Central Station. Just before she arrived, there was a crack of thunder, which made her shudder, and raindrops the size of marbles started to hammer on to the pavement. Susie ran the last twenty yards but by the time she got inside, her hair was wet and the shoulders of her jacket looked as if they were of a darker pink material to the rest of it. Inside, she headed for Costa Coffee, ordered a latte and then sat at a table on the concourse.
Taking her first sip, she thought about the day. Not quite what she’d been anticipating when she woke up and Sarah had poked her head around the door. She tried to remember Sarah’s expression in that second or two. Inspector Kirby had asked if anything hadn’t felt right. She tried to recall Sarah’s tone of voice. No, she’d been her usual cheery self. And what about the days before? Again nothing came to mind. She took her phone out of her bag.
‘Hi, Mum. It’s me.’
‘Oh hi, love. You alright?’
‘Me, yes. It’s Sarah though. I think she’s gone missing and I’m worried about her.’ She relayed the story, finishing with: ‘I called the police. It just didn’t feel right. It seems a bit silly saying it, although the inspector said I was right to do so.’
‘Yes, dear, you were. And never just dismiss things that don’t feel right.’
‘That’s what the inspector said.’
‘Really, what’s he called?’
‘Kirby.’
There was a moment’s silence on the other end.
‘Mum, d’you know him?
‘No, no, I don’t think so, dear. Anyway, they’re taking it seriously then?’
‘Yes, seems so. That’s where I’ve just been,’ Susie laughed, despite the situation. ‘Helping the police with their enquiries. Sorry, Mum, just sounds such a cliché.’
Susie’s mum chuckled with her. ‘Yes it does a bit. Was there anything in particular they were interested in?’
‘Well, they wanted to know if she’s been in touch with her mum.’
‘Oh.’ Again there was a moment’s hesitation. ‘And has she?’
‘As I told them, not that I know of. She talked about her a couple of times, you know, wondering about her. And she showed me an old photo online. It’s only natural, right?
‘Hmm…’
‘Mum?’
‘Sorry, dear. And there’s nothing else? No one hanging around?’
‘Mum, you’re beginning to sound like the police. No, why?’
‘Oh, just a silly mum asking silly questions. Perhaps it’s living out here in the sticks, or I’ve been watching too much TV.’
Susie knew her mum wasn’t silly and didn’t ask silly questions. ‘Mum?’
‘Nothing, dear. As you say, it’s only natural for a girl to wonder about her mother.’
Susie recognised her mother’s tone of voice that was meant to mean, “I don’t want to worry you”, yet it did quite the opposite. She decided not to pursue things further, storing it away for another time. Perhaps when they were together. ‘Guess so. Well, I’d better go, Mum. Maybe I’ll come home for a few days soon.’
‘OK love, that’d be nice. Call me if you hear anything. Well, call me even if you don’t. Well, you know.
‘Yes, Mum. Bye.’
Six
Kirby waited for Constable Barker to return from escorting Susie to the front door of the station. ‘Well, Constable?’ he said as they wandered back to the office.
‘Susan or Susie rather?’
‘Yes.’
‘Nice girl,’ Constable Barker said, shrugging her shoulders. ‘As I said before, I’m sure her concern for her friend is genuine and I think she’s telling us everything she knows. Or at least I don’t think she’s deliberately hiding anything. I’m certain she’s on the level.’
‘Yes, so am I.’
‘And the father?’
‘Genuine too. He got quite upset when I mentioned Sarah’s mother. But then she had run out on them when the girl was only two years old.’
‘And she hasn’t been in touch?’
Kirby shook his head. ‘Not according to Cooper. Said she’d made it clear she didn’t want anything to do with them. Although that could of course mean anything to do with him. He’s hardly going to be impartial when it comes to talking about her.’
Barker nodded. ‘So we keep trying to find the mother?’
‘Definitely.’
‘What about the ex?’
‘Yes, why don’t you go and talk to him?’
‘Sir.’
Back in the office, more paperwork had appeared in his in-box and the report on Diamond Lil still needed completing, without sensationalism of course. However, the picture of those pretty little shoes lined up at the side of the road kept popping into his head, as did thoughts of his own daughter who was about the same age. He looked up at the clock, three-thirty. ‘I’m off,’ he said to Sergeant Jones. ‘I’m going to call in at that shop in Clayton Road, see what I can find out about those shoes, for what it’s worth.’
‘Are you sure you want to do that on your own, guv,’ Jones asked.
Kirby hesitated, what piece of station humour was coming next? ‘Why?’
‘I wouldn’t want you to get all tied up. I’d feel a right heel if that happened.’ Jones’s head disappeared below the level of his screen as he sniggered.
Kirby waited for his head to pop up again. The look on his inspector’s face told Jones he wasn’t impressed. ‘Yes, well don’t forget I want you at that bus stop soon, showing everyone who gets off Sarah’s picture and asking if they saw her, or anything unusual, this morning.’
‘Really, Guv?’ Jones complained.
‘Yes really,’ Kirby said as he walked towards the door, pulling on his old tweed jacket with the patched elbows. He paused, then looked back at Jones as if he’d just thought of something. ‘What’s more, it’ll be good for your soul.’
Kirby pulled into an empty space on Clayton Road, outside a dry cleaners, and walked back to the little shop Susie had mentioned, Mystique. The sign over the window was written in such a way as if to give the impression the word was riding a wave, wit
h the letters getting smaller towards the end. Susie had said it sold a lot of quirky stuff, and looking in the window, to Kirby’s mind, confirmed she was right. There was an eclectic mix of vintage clothes and scarves draped over what to him looked like tatty old chairs. One of the chairs had a price tag that made him regret getting rid of those he’d thrown out a few years ago. Then on a low table there were books on vampires, druid practices and other subjects that could be classed as quirky, or even weird. Some he guessed were novels and others had a look that suggested the authors wanted you to take them seriously. There were also a number of crosses and things that he supposed were charms, along with other objects that meant nothing to him.
Kirby entered to the sound of a tinkling bell, the old-fashioned sort, which was attached to the door on springy bit of metal. Inside the shop it smelled of what he hoped was just incense. The place was a jumbled riot of colour. In one corner were a couple of rails full of vibrant patterned dresses and flamboyant floppy hats. In another were shelves of books and what he guessed he should refer to as “objets” including a few Buddhas, the largest of which was draped with a selection of beads. He wondered if Buddha would approve.
A thin young woman in a floaty, emerald-green, full-length dress emerged from the back room with a mug of, what judging from the aromas that preceded her, was herbal tea. Wrapped around her head, keeping her hair back, was a scarf in same colour as the dress. Numerous bangles on her wrist jingled as she moved. If this was the Sixties, he guessed he’d have pigeon-holed her as a hippy. She glided towards him. Her eyes looked him up and down and a shiver of uncertainty passed across her face as if she’d never seen a middle-aged man in tweed before.
‘Good afternoon, how can I help?’ she said in a low voice that seemed to come from far away.
Kirby began to wonder what was really in the tea. He took out his warrant card. He held it up and smiled. ‘By answering a few questions.’
‘Oh, of course.’ Her voice had now risen in tone and returned to the here and now, which gave him more hope that he would get sensible answers.
‘And you are?’
The woman seemed to have to think about it. ‘Jane. But I like to be called Titania.’
‘Of course you do,’ Kirby muttered.
‘Sorry?’
‘Nothing.’
Jane’s or rather Titania’s gaze drifted towards the ceiling and her hand fluttered in front of her face. Her mouth opened as if she was about to say something, then closed as her eyes glazed over.
Kirby waited, then decided if this conversation was going to go anywhere, his normal tactics weren’t going to work. The onus was on him. He smiled. ‘So, er, Titania. It’s about a young girl I believe is a customer of yours.’
‘Young girl?’ Jane wafted the limp hand in front of him. ‘We get many discerning girls visiting our emporium.’ The voice had drifted away again. Perhaps he’d got his hopes up to soon.
‘I’m sure you do.’ He took out his phone. ‘This girl.’
The eyes focused and the voice normalised again. ‘Oh, yes, she’s in here often,’ Jane said. She paused and her eyes glazed over again. It was if her mind didn’t like to be tied down for too long. ‘A singular young lady. She has a definite affinity for our unusual style and tastes.’
It reminded Kirby of trying to listen to pirate radio as a kid. At the time, he’d imagined the coming and going of the signal was due to the ship bobbing around on the water. He had the urge to try and tune Jane, or rather Titania, in, or find a better frequency. Her eyes drifted around the shop and a half smile was forming on her lips.
‘Yes, well,’ Kirby said waving the phone to get her attention back on him. ‘Have you seen her recently?’
‘Yes, just the other day, I think.’
‘Could it have been yesterday,’ he added while she was back in the room.
‘Yes, come to think of it, I believe it was.’
‘Did she buy anything?’
The woman put a finger on her lips. Her eyes were heading towards the ceiling again and he could see she was slipping away.
‘Well?’ he asked, adding a little sharpness to his tone.
Her eyes widened as if surprised he was still there. ‘Oh, yes. A pair of pink canvas shoes. Lovely design on them. Just in. Would you like a pair…?’
What! He was losing her again. ‘No, thank you.’ He flicked at the screen and pushed it towards her again, forcing her to focus. ‘This pair?’
This time Jane jumped as if he’d startled her. She put a finger with dark purple nail polish on his arm. The bangles jingled. She smiled and leant towards him so that she was just that fraction too close. ‘Oh naughty, inspector. You knew all along. I’ve seen the shows. You’re testing me.’
Kirby fought the urge to back out of the shop. ‘So you did sell her these yesterday?’
‘Yes. Late afternoon I think. No, I’m sure of it, late afternoon.’ She paused. ‘Although, it could have been nearer mid-day. I’m sorry, I’m not very good with time.’
‘No matter.’
Excellent,’ she said tapping his arm, and much to his relief, stepping back. ‘Is that all?’
I wish it was. He decided to battle on. ‘Is this your shop?’
‘My shop…?’ she said, halting mid drift this time.
‘Yes. Is it yours? As in, do you own it?’
‘Goodness no. No, no, no... No head for figures, you see. I’m told I’m very good with the customers though.’
‘I’m sure you are.’
Jane beamed at the perceived compliment. ‘Ah yes, a detective, you’d notice.’
Kirby pressed on while he still had her attention. ‘So who is the owner?’
‘Mary.’
‘Mary?’
‘Yes, Mary.’
‘No, I mean what about her surname?’
‘Surname?’
‘Yes, the one that comes after the Christian name or names. You know the family name.’
Jane smiled as if pleased with herself. ‘Oh yes, I know what a surname is.’
Kirby wondered how some people survived, how they remembered to eat, or even breathe. ‘So, Mary who?’
Jane let out a little giggle and a painted finger touched his sleeve again. ‘You know, I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know your employer’s surname?’
The hand wafted in front of him with its accompanying bangle music. ‘No, it never came up. Didn’t seem relevant, if you know what I mean?’
Kirby puffed out his cheeks. ‘Do you have an address for her? On your contract perhaps?’ he asked, more in hope than expectation.
Jane blinked at him several times as if he’d just asked what she thought of the Large Hadron Collider and Higgs Boson particles.
This time the hand waved to encompass the whole shop. ‘You see, inspector, Mary and I are well… of a similar vibe, you might say.’
‘Similar vibe,’ he repeated.
She smiled. ‘That’s right. So the need for contracts and surnames aren’t important.’ She put her finger to her lips again, which moved in silence, as if the actual words had got lost somewhere after leaving her brain.
Kirby waited a couple of seconds. ‘You were telling me about Mary.’
Back in the room. ‘Was I?’ Jane extended a finger towards him and then, thankfully, retracted it. ‘Oh, yes. Mary’s what you might call a strong woman. When we talk about a contract or working times or time off, I always come in determined to put my foot down, to be strong. Then somehow I always end up doing what she wants. My boyfriend says I’m just weak. He hasn’t met her, you see. It’s not like she’s a bad person or anything, just…’
‘Strong.’
‘Yes… yes, that’s it.’ The now vague smile suggested he was losing her once more.
‘Just one more thing before you go.’
‘Me? Go?’
‘Do you know when she’ll be back in?’
Jane placed a hand on her hip and frowned. ‘Funny you should mentio
n that, but…’
‘No,’ Kirby finished for her.
The smiled remained.
‘I suppose it’s not important when you’re of the same vibe.’
‘No, quite.’ Jane said as she started to rearrange a few scarves on the table next to her. She looked up and for a second seemed surprised to see him. ‘Oh, er, sorry. Will that be all, inspector?’
‘Yes, thank you, er, Titania,’ he paused, before adding in time-honoured police speak, ‘for now’.
As he left the shop, Kirby wondered if in some way the woman was acting, or in this case, overacting. Pretending perhaps, keeping something back. As a detective you had to be good with ‘pretending’. It was almost part of the training, both as a practitioner and as an observer. In many ways he thought it would be a better course for a young copper than team-building. Then, as he thought about the shop and Jane, he didn’t think anyone would be that obvious, or that good. Still it might be worth having another go. He took a deep breath, if he had any more questions for her, he decided he’d send Shirley next time. His mind was mulling it over as he was about to set off down the street back to his car. Distracted, he almost fell over an old lady who was blocking his path.
‘Sorry, madam,’ he said as he made to step around her. She moved back into his path. He made to go the other way and she nipped in front of him again. He had to admit she was nimble for her age.
‘Er, excuse me, madam,’ he tried again, refusing to believe the thought that popped into his head that an elderly lady in a grey cardigan was trying to mug him, in Jesmond. In other parts of the city maybe.
‘No,’ she replied, which wasn’t the response he’d been expecting.
‘I’m sorry?’
She fixed him with a stare. ‘Just stop skipping around for a minute like a demented goat and listen.’ He was about to reply along the lines that he was in a hurry and that he never acted like a demented goat, when her eyes made direct contact with his. Those eyes gave him no choice but stay where he was. As an experienced detective, he could read eyes better than most, and these had such stories to tell. ‘You looking for a girl who’s gone missing.’ It was a statement rather than a question.