Picture Her Dead (Rhona Macleod)

by Lin Anderson

  Liam considered his next move. He should really call DI Wilson and tell him what Aurora had said. He pulled out his mobile, then hesitated. He’d been told to stay out of it. If he called, it would be obvious he wasn’t doing that. Besides, the police were the investigators, not him, and they had an entire IT department to figure out what Ben was doing on his own.

  He decided to call Aurora instead.

  She answered right away. ‘Liam? Has something happened?’

  ‘We might be able to access Jude’s emails.’

  ‘That’s great. D’you want to meet up?’

  ‘I could come by the halls.’

  ‘No. Let’s meet at the Driftwood at Charing Cross in half an hour? There’s something I’d like to run past you too.’

  Liam rang off feeling a little guilty. Jude was missing and he was practically going on a date with her friend. It shouldn’t feel like that, he told himself. Jude had never shown any interest in him other than as a friend, and she didn’t even do friendship all that well. It had taken a lot of effort on his part to reach that status.

  Liam knocked on his housemate’s door and told him he was headed out and to text him if anything came up. There was a muttered affirmative from an obviously engrossed Ben.

  It was raining. Heavily persistent, it had penetrated his jacket before he reached Charing Cross. The Driftwood was a café-bar, popular with students, serving coffee, drinks and mostly Mexican food. He’d been before but only once or twice.

  Aurora had got there before him although it was difficult to see her in the low lighting. She spotted him first. As he walked towards her, he saw the anxious expression on her face.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Sit down. They’ll come over. Then we’ll talk.’

  Once they had their coffees, Aurora said, ‘Look, I’m just going to say it. Sally Murphy, a girl that used to be in halls with us, has just told me Charlie tried it on with her more than once. Well, more than tried it on – he scared her quite badly. She moved out of the halls after he started visiting at odd hours, using his pass key to get into her room.’

  Liam’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘But … he seems so nice.’

  ‘Yes, I couldn’t believe it either.’

  ‘She must have been mistaken?’

  ‘She swore it was true. She left the halls because of it.’

  ‘But wardens are vetted, aren’t they?’

  ‘It’s not a school. Everyone living there’s an adult.’

  ‘It never happened to you?’ asked Liam.

  She shook her head.

  ‘What if we tell the police and it turns out to be a lie?’

  ‘And what if it’s true and I did hear his voice that night?’ Aurora replied.

  ‘But that was after Jude disappeared, and we know now she was going to meet the reel-to-reel guy.’

  Aurora put her head in her hands. Clearly she was struggling with this as much as he was. Charlie, a sexual predator?

  ‘Why didn’t she say something before now? Why did she just leave?’

  ‘She didn’t think anyone would believe her. Look at us – we keep saying maybe it’s a lie. But then she heard about Jude and started to worry.’

  ‘Even if Charlie did harass this Sally, that doesn’t mean he had anything to do with Jude disappearing.’

  ‘You’re sure about that?’ Aurora said.

  Liam didn’t feel sure of anything.

  He walked Aurora back to the halls. The rain continued to fall, making the pavements slick and greasy. His mind went once more to Jude, imagining her lying somewhere in the rain, somewhere they would never find her. The thought made him feel sick.

  ‘I’m going to talk to Charlie,’ he said.

  ‘Is that wise?’

  ‘He doesn’t know that we know about Sally, so he won’t be suspicious.’

  Aurora gave him a long hard look. ‘I’m not sure you’re a good enough liar. Your face might give something away.’

  ‘I can lie if I have to,’ he protested.

  ‘Or I could speak to him,’ she offered. ‘Maybe mention I heard a man’s voice that night, see what he says.’

  ‘No.’ Liam didn’t want that. He still couldn’t imagine Charlie in his new role, but just in case. ‘Is he on duty?’

  ‘Yes, that’s why I came out to meet you,’ she said.

  They parted before they reached the building. Aurora went in first, agreeing that it was better if Charlie didn’t know there had been any communication between them.

  Despite his insistence that he do it himself Liam felt awkward as he approached the old man, but the welcome he got was as cheery as ever.

  ‘Any news, lad?’

  ‘Not really.’

  Charlie cocked his head on one side. ‘What d’you mean, not really?’

  Liam tried to look worried, which wasn’t hard. ‘I think Jude might have gone to meet someone that night. Someone who collected old films.’

  ‘Really?’ Charlie looked interested. ‘After she left the cinema?’

  Liam nodded, not looking him in the eye.

  ‘You think that might have been the bastard that broke into the lassie’s room and took the laptop and the film?’

  Liam shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

  He found himself reading something into every intonation in Charlie’s voice and every twitch of his facial muscles. If Charlie had harmed Jude, wouldn’t it suit him down to the ground if the police were chasing after some reel-to-reel collector?

  ‘D’you know who this guy is?’ Charlie said.

  ‘I didn’t say it was a guy.’

  Charlie gave him a sharp look. ‘No, but it’s usually men who spend their time collecting stuff like that, isn’t it? I just assumed.’

  Liam nodded. ‘I wondered if Jude mentioned anything to you about him?’

  ‘Can’t say she did. Have you told the police about this?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Liam said, sheepishly. ‘They said not to interfere any more.’

  Charlie frowned sympathetically. ‘They don’t appreciate how worried you are, son. So, what now?’

  ‘We’re trying to trace him.’

  Charlie seemed impressed. ‘Really? Any luck so far?’

  ‘My friend Ben’s a computer geek,’ Liam said, as if that answered the question.

  ‘Well, good on you, son. You’ll let me know if you find out anything?’

  ‘Sure, Charlie.’

  Liam felt the man’s eyes follow him to the door, or imagined he did. During their conversation a frightening thought had occurred: the police gave nothing away, Rhona was testament to that, but he himself had shared everything with Charlie from the very beginning, every little detail of his search for Jude.

  Liam waited until he was well out of sight of the building before calling Aurora.

  ‘I told him about the reel-to-reel guy.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He was really interested. Wished me good luck.’

  ‘But did he behave oddly?’

  ‘I’m beginning to think everyone’s behaving oddly. I’m not cut out for this game. I think we should call that detective and tell him everything.’ As he said this a message arrived from Ben. ‘Wait a minute.’ Hoping he wouldn’t cut her off, Liam took his phone away from his ear to open it, quickly scanned it and returned to the call. ‘Ben says he’s found him. He’s found the reel-to-reel collector.’

  36

  The young woman shut the door quickly and ushered Rhona through to the kitchen.

  ‘Would you like some coffee?’

  Rhona nodded distractedly. This must be who Petersson had referred to at their meeting. The person he hoped Kalinin didn’t know about. Rhona had assumed he’d been talking about a lover, but not one in her early twenties.

  The woman filled two mugs. ‘Milk?’

  ‘No, just black, thanks.’

  She brought the coffee to the table and gestured that Rhona should sit down. She was glad to. Her legs felt like water. She’
d primed herself to interrogate Petersson, never an easy task. Now she had to deal with his lover.

  ‘I think you didn’t expect me to be here,’ said the girl.

  ‘I’m sorry. Who are you exactly?’ The question had to be asked.

  ‘Einar hasn’t told you?’

  ‘He said there was someone he loved and was worried about.’

  A small smile played on the girl’s lips. ‘Pabbi fusses a lot.’

  ‘Pabbi?’

  ‘My father.’

  ‘Einar’s your father? I thought …’

  ‘That I was his girlfriend?’ The girl laughed wryly. ‘I’d be a bit young for him! Don’t worry, you’re not the first woman to think he was cheating on her with me.’

  ‘Einar and I aren’t in a relationship,’ Rhona said firmly.

  ‘Really? That’s a pity. He obviously likes you a great deal or he wouldn’t have allowed you to meet me.’

  ‘Have you been here long?’

  ‘I arrived unexpectedly yesterday. My father wasn’t pleased.’

  Which helped explain Petersson’s uncharacteristic emotional state that morning.

  ‘He’s working on a difficult case.’

  ‘My father is always working on a difficult case. And these cases mean that we can’t be seen together. In Iceland, in Scotland, in London, wherever. So I stay indoors and I wait for him to return.’ She observed Rhona. ‘The interesting thing this time is that he has allowed me to meet you.’ She held out her hand, ‘My name is Brynja.’

  ‘And I’m Rhona, but you know that already.’ They smiled at each other.

  ‘I know much more than your name,’ she continued, more serious now. ‘I know that you are a forensic expert. That you have a teenage son called Liam. That a friend and colleague of yours is missing and my pabbi believes that the Russian he investigates is involved in his kidnap.’

  Rhona wasn’t sure she was comfortable with Petersson sharing so much information with his daughter.

  Brynja, perhaps sensing this, said, ‘He tells me this to make sure I heed his warnings and stay inside.’

  ‘He talks to you about Nikolai Kalinin?’

  ‘So that’s his name.’ The girl looked thoughtful. ‘I know he has been following this man for a long time.’

  ‘You said your father suspected I might come here?’

  ‘He did, and he left you a message.’ Brynja composed herself as though reciting something she’d learned by heart.

  ‘William McCartney is alive and will be home soon.’

  Rhona’s heart leapt. ‘You’re sure of that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did he say anything about a man called Johnny Lang?’

  Brynja shook her head. ‘No. That’s all.’

  It always had to be cloak and dagger with Petersson. Why not phone her and tell her himself? Because he knew she would ask questions. And he obviously didn’t want to have to answer them. Petersson might pretend to be working in a team but he never had been, and never would. That much was obvious.

  ‘You’re annoyed with him?’

  ‘It would have saved time and worry if he’d just called me.’

  ‘Maybe he was afraid the call might be intercepted?’ Rhona rolled her eyes, and Brynja must have caught her, because she continued: ‘Since my mother was killed he has become even more paranoid and secretive about his work.’

  ‘What happened to your mother?’

  ‘A car accident two years ago. We were living in Prague at the time. The road was icy. The police told us a lorry skidded and hit her car. My mother sustained multiple injuries and died before she reached hospital.’ She said the words as though they too had been repeated many times.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Rhona waited a moment before asking, ‘Did Einar say when he would be back?’

  ‘Not before I leave.’

  ‘You’re leaving tonight?’

  ‘I’m booked on the last flight to London. I stay overnight there before flying to Switzerland tomorrow. Pabbi made the arrangements.’

  Petersson definitely didn’t want his daughter around.

  They said their goodbyes in the hall.

  ‘It was very nice to meet you. I hope we meet again soon.’ Brynja seemed to mean it.

  ‘I hope so too.’

  The girl opened the front door just wide enough for Rhona to slip through, then she heard the chain and lock being fastened behind her. Brynja might scoff at her father’s fears, but she was taking them seriously.

  The street door was still wedged open, but there was no sign of the young man she’d seen earlier. Rhona freed the door and closed it firmly behind her.

  On her way back to the car she thought about Petersson, man of secrets. Hiding not a lover, but a daughter. Using Brynja to signal two things to her: that his warnings about Kalinin should be taken seriously and, more importantly, that a man who would trust Rhona with his daughter was a man to be trusted himself.

  Rhona tried Bill before driving back to the lab to fill Chrissy in on what she’d learned. When it went to voicemail, she decided not to leave a message. This was something better said in person.

  37

  ‘He’s not a nice man. I told my sister that, but there you go, she needs the money.’ Moira topped up both their cups from the teapot.

  Behind Bill a budgie chirped in its cage. The sound reminded him of his childhood. Back then everyone had a budgie and most of them were called Joey, regardless of their sex.

  ‘You don’t mind Bluey?’ Moira said.

  Not a Joey this time, then. ‘Not at all. I had a budgie when I was a boy.’

  She nodded approvingly.

  ‘You were saying about Mr Nelson,’ Bill prompted her.

  ‘There’s a room he keeps locked. I thought at first it was full of stuff he’d nicked from the charity shop. Like that painting of the sailing ships.’

  ‘But it wasn’t?’ Bill urged her on.

  ‘No. I wasn’t allowed to clean in there. Neither is Peggy. But he left it unlocked one day, so I had a look inside.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It was full of books and old films.’

  ‘Films?’

  ‘Stacks of them. Sixteen millimetre and eight millimetre like the ones we had for the first movie camera we bought. A couple of old-fashioned projectors too. One of them big and professional looking. I bet he took that one from the Rosevale,’ she finished, triumphantly.

  Bill felt a flash of hope he didn’t dare acknowledge. ‘You didn’t happen to notice what kind of films?’

  Just the question Moira had been waiting for. ‘I never saw one running, mind, but some of the titles suggested they were, you know, sexual. And I did take a look at a couple of the books. Photographs of men mostly, with things being done to them.’ Moira emphasised the word ‘things’ and gave Bill a knowing look. ‘I’m no prude, Inspector. Live and let live is what I say, but sex is one thing, violence another.’

  ‘The photos depicted sexual violence?’

  She nodded. ‘Maybe those men wanted those things done to them, but I can’t believe the man in that cinema asked to be walled up, do you?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘If you’re planning on taking a look, the room’s off his bedroom. Peggy says he keeps a laptop locked in there when he hasn’t got it away with him on the yacht.’

  ‘Have you any idea where he moors the yacht?’

  ‘When I was cleaning for him, he kept it at Helensburgh. Peggy thinks it’s still there. It’s called “The Saucy Sailor”.’

  ‘You’ve been very helpful, Mrs Cochrane.’

  ‘Moira. Everyone calls me Moira, except his Lordship.’

  The word ‘Lordship’ reminded Bill of something else he wanted to ask. ‘Peggy said Mr Nelson plays golf with a Lord sometimes. You don’t happen to know who that is?’

  ‘He used to mention a “Sir” now and again. As if I’d be impressed.’

  ‘Can you recall the name?’

  She though
t for a minute. ‘I’ve never been very good at names and it’s getting worse the older I get. If it comes back to me, I’ll give you a call.’

  Moira escorted him into the hall, the budgie’s loud chirps following them.

  ‘Bluey doesn’t like being left on his own,’ she said. ‘I usually leave the television on for him when I go out.’

  When they parted, she wished Bill good luck. ‘I never liked the uppity old bugger, but I hope he didn’t have anything to do with that body.’

  As he left, Bill considered his next move. His first instinct was to use the element of surprise, head for Nelson’s flat and ask to see the room Moira had spoken about.

  Nelson could of course refuse if he arrived without a search warrant. And getting one would take time.

  Another possibility had occurred by the time he’d reached the car. What if Nelson had already taken fright and emptied the flat of anything incriminating? After all, it had been twenty-four hours since Bill had first interviewed the man.

  Bill made a quick phone call, then started the engine. He wanted to hear what his Lordship had to say.

  Nelson’s flat was in darkness. It looked as though the front rooms, at least, were unoccupied. Bill tried the buzzer anyway, and was surprised when it was answered.

  ‘Mr Nelson? It’s Detective Inspector Wilson. May I come up?’

  ‘It’s a little late for visitors.’

  ‘I was on my way home and took a chance you might be available. If you are, that would be very helpful.’

  A studied silence followed, before Nelson decided to play the role of obliging citizen.

  ‘Of course, come on up.’ He released the door.

  When Bill reached the landing he found Mr Nelson waiting for him there.

  ‘I was shut away in my study. You’re lucky I heard the buzzer.’

  ‘Working on something nautical?’

  ‘No, my other hobby. Old film. I run a website for enthusiasts. I picked up a box of sixteen millimetre reels at a car-boot sale last Saturday. No titles, so I’ve been checking them out.’

  ‘Anything interesting?’

  ‘A fascinating home video of a family in Germany in the lead-up to the war. It looks like they’re having a garden party, then suddenly they all line up and give a Nazi salute. Quite unnerving.’

  ‘What sort of projector do you use?’