by Lesley Kelly
He smiled his thanks and Mona knocked on the tutor’s door.
‘Come.’
‘Professor Withington?’
The don didn’t look up when they walked in, just carried on reading. His appearance – male, bearded, sixty-something – fitted closely Mona’s idea of what a divinity prof should look like. She gazed at the room’s book-lined walls for a few seconds then coughed. The tutor raised his head and took off his glasses.
‘Are you my students?’
‘No.’ Maitland stepped forward and offered his ID card. ‘We’re from the Health Enforcement Team.’
The Professor put his specs back on and examined it closely.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, passing Maitland his card back, and gesturing them to sit down all in the one smooth motion. ‘What is that?’
Mona sat down in a cracked leather chair. ‘We’re the agency that traces people who have missed a Health Check – you know, your monthly . . .’
‘Yes, yes,’ said the tutor, with a wave of his hand. ‘An annoyance, but a necessary evil in these times. Sorry, I was aware such an agency existed, I just didn’t realise that was your name.’
‘Absolutely, Sir. If you’ve never missed a Health Check you wouldn’t have encountered us.’
A light appeared to go on in the don’s eyes. ‘Is this about Heidi Weber? The memo I sent to Student Health Services?’
‘The memo?’
‘Yes, Heidi missed a tutorial yesterday, so I fired off an e-mail to Student Health Services – we have all kinds of protocols for these things now.’
‘We’re currently looking for two of your students who have missed Health Checks, Heidi Weber and another girl called Colette Greenwood. Although I must warn you that under the terms of the Health Enforcement and Defaulter Recovery Act you are not allowed to tell anyone else that we are seeking them.’
‘Of course.’ He frowned. ‘I know both the students, but I wasn’t aware they were friends.’
‘We don’t think they are together, but there are a number of similarities in their background that lead us to believe that their disappearance might be related. Has Colette missed any tutorials?’
‘I’ll have to check my records.’ He reached behind him for a folder. ‘Colette is such a reticent girl, doesn’t speak up much in class. I can’t remember off the top of my head . . .ah, here we are. If I can read my own handwriting correctly, it says “C Greenwood absent but friend said she is sick with stomach upset.”’
Cover 4 me at uni.
‘And is Heidi equally shy?’
He laughed, a surprisingly deep and warm sound. ‘Oh, goodness me, no. Heidi is a very opinionated young woman. A real pleasure to teach.’
‘So,’ said Mona. ‘Any thoughts at all where either girl might be?’
‘Parents?’
‘Our first port of call.’ Maitland joined in. ‘Both sets haven’t heard from their girls, and obviously, are now very worried, but they couldn’t think where the girls would be. Or why they’d run off, for that matter. It appears to be out of character in both cases. What kind of information do you hold about your students?’
‘Not much, to be honest,’ said Professor Withington. He started tapping at his computer. ‘Really just name, address, grades, and of course in this day and age, their Health Status. Let me pull up Colette’s record.’ He swivelled the screen round to face them. ‘Is that her?’
Mona looked at the on-screen picture of a teenage girl. She had long, straight, blonde hair, high cheekbones and blue eyes.
‘Wow,’ said Maitland, leaning in for a closer look. ‘Her Health Check photograph really didn’t do her justice.’
‘Yes, she’s a pretty one.’ His face clouded. ‘You don’t think anything has happened to her? Or to Heidi?’
‘No,’ said Mona. ‘Colette’s friends seem to think it is “boy trouble”. We’re not so sure about Heidi, but it will probably turn out to be nothing.’
Withington looked unconvinced. ‘But a lot of the people you look for must be in serious trouble. I mean, a number of the people you are seeking must have missed their checks because they have contracted the Virus?’ He doodled thoughtfully on the edge of one of his papers. ‘Could Colette or Heidi be,’ he paused, ‘dead?’
‘Unlikely, Sir,’ said Mona. ‘In the six months I’ve been with the HET, we’ve had five, maybe six, deaths. A few of the people we’ve found do have the Virus, but by and large they are people with chaotic lives – junkies or whatever – who just can’t get themselves together enough to attend their Health Check.’
The tutor’s eyes widened. ‘You don’t think drugs could be an issue here, do you?’
A few weeks ago, she would have discounted the idea, but now she wasn’t so sure.
They left the Faculty, and stood at the traffic lights at the top of the Mound. The green man came on and Mona stepped out into the road, then realised that Maitland wasn’t following.
‘Come on! I want to go and follow up Heidi’s flatmate.’
Maitland didn’t move. ‘I’m going to head over to the Students’ Union on Potterrow and check out the posters. Maybe someone is advertising events at Morley’s.’
‘That’s a shit idea.’
‘Yeah,’ said Maitland, starting to walk. ‘Well, that’s what I’m planning to do and unless you’ve got a better idea I suggest you join me.’
‘I’ve got plenty of suggestions, like we follow up my Defaulter, the one we are supposed to be throwing all our resources at?’
Her colleague seemed indifferent to the logic of this argument as his pace quickened, and he disappeared round the corner.
Mona tutted, but started to run. ‘Ten minutes, Maitland, then we’re going.’
‘Told you this was a crap idea.’
In amongst all the posters for Happy Hours, 2-4-1 offers, and Intimate Gatherings for Non-Immunes, she couldn’t find a single mention of Morley’s.
‘There must be something here.’ Maitland was unwilling to admit defeat. ‘I’m going to check the other wall.’
He strode across the concourse, dodging around the tables, students, and pot plants.
‘Suit yourself,’ she shouted after him. ‘I’m going to get a drink, then we’re heading to Marchmont.’
She strode toward the coffee shop, buoyed up by having being proved right. The weather had picked up, and the spring sunshine was streaming through the transparent dome that served as a roof to the building. She ordered an Americano from the impossibly young assistant, debated about ordering a muffin, then decided against it. As she emerged from the café she saw a familiar, curly-haired figure bounding across the floor of Potterrow, in the general direction of Maitland. Kate.
Mona walked slowly in the direction of her colleague, wondering whether to announce her presence. Maybe her colleague would be better handling this one-to-one, turning on the charm that everyone seemed so certain he had.
‘Hello,’ said Kate, to Maitland’s back.
He turned round, his face registering surprise as he saw who it was. Kate was waving a piece of paper at him. ‘This saves me a phone call – I’ve got an address for Donny.’
He took the offered information, looked at it, then folded it up and stuck it in his inside pocket. ‘Thanks.’
She stood staring at him, her head on one side and hand on her hip. ‘Fancy a drink?’
‘I can’t consume alcohol when I’m working.’
Idiot, thought Mona. Get her into a pub, have a lemonade, get her talking about what’s going on with her friend.
Kate laughed. ‘That wasn’t what I meant. I don’t drink. I was more thinking coffee at Teviot.’
Maitland was smiling that annoying little grin of his. ‘In a Students’ Union? I’m not sure they’d let me in.’
‘Oh, come on, I’m sure you just flash that pass of yours and you get in anywhere.’
Was Kate flirting with Maitland? His appeal to women definitely eluded Mona. Maybe it was a pheromone thing. She won
dered what to do. She didn’t fancy waiting around for him, and debated with herself whether to follow up Heidi’s flatmate solo, or head back to the office.
She watched them walk toward the door of Potterrow.
‘So, Kate, you don’t have sex, you don’t drink . . .’ her colleague’s voice drifted across to her ‘ . . . isn’t student life wasted on you?’
She cringed, and decided Maitland couldn’t be trusted not to cock this up. She put her coffee on the table, and ran after them.
‘Hoi!’
The two of them turned round. Kate looked surprised, and Maitland smirked over the top of the student’s head.
‘Can I join you?’
The three of them walked through the arched doorway of the Teviot Row House Students’ Union.
‘This is nice,’ said Maitland, looking round at the polished wood walls. ‘Very olde worlde.’
‘It’s the oldest purpose-built Students’ Union in the world.’
‘Really?’ Maitland elbowed Mona. ‘We’ll have to remember that one to tell Bernard.’
They showed their health cards to the doorman, who made a point of reading each one in turn. Kate led the way, and they followed her up the broad stone steps in silence. Mona read the posters on the wall as she climbed: an obligatory Phone Help Don’t Approach advert, two posters advising people to cover their mouths and keep their distance, and, just for variety, a warning about AIDS. Did students still have casual sex? If they did, they were the only ones. Promiscuity in the Virus age was definitely out of fashion; it was up there with nightclubs, cinemas and public transport as things best avoided if possible.
The cafeteria was quiet; it was still too early for the lunchtime rush. Kate walked swiftly up to a table, dumping her bag on one chair and herself on another, her curly hair bouncing as she sat.
‘Mine’s a coffee, milk no sugar.’
‘So I’m buying, am I?’
Maitland looked irritated, and Mona felt a surge of alarm. Kate being here was a gift to their investigation, and her colleague was going to blow it because he was too tight to spring for a couple of coffees. Fortunately, Kate didn’t appear to have noticed his annoyance, and sat curling her hair round her finger.
‘I’m a poor student.’ She folded her arms and looked up at him, a smile of expectation on her face.
Maitland tutted, and stomped off toward the tills.
Mona smiled a silent apology. ‘I’ll give him a hand.’
Her colleague was clattering cups onto a tray.
‘What was all that about?’ she asked.
‘These students have such a bloody sense of entitlement. She lied to us, and now she expects me to run round after her.’
‘She’s a good-looking girl – and she is just a girl – of course she’s used to men running after her.’ Mona put a third cup and saucer onto the tray. ‘And we want information from her.’
Maitland looked back over at Kate. ‘She is a bit of all right, isn’t she?’
Mona glared at him. ‘That’s not exactly professional, is it?’
‘OK, sorry, I’ve just had an excess of wood-panelling today. Look,’ he picked up three cakes and put them on the tray, ‘peace offerings all round.’
In spite of herself, Mona smiled. She headed back toward the table, and over her shoulder said, ‘You’re still paying, though.’
Kate returned her smile, a little uncertainly, as she sat down.
Maitland appeared, placed the spoils on the table, and settled himself onto a chair. ‘So, Morley’s.’
‘What about it?’
‘I just think it’s an odd choice of night out.’
She shrugged, but Mona thought she seemed slightly uncomfortable.
‘And did Colette often suggest that you go to pubs frequented by bikers? Did she enjoy a good bar brawl?’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Kate smiled at Maitland. ‘It was just somewhere to go.’
‘And you spent the night arguing about religion?’
Kate giggled. ‘We are Divinity students.’
‘And what were the finer points of your discussion? In words a heathen like me might understand?’ Maitland winked. Mona had to work to stop herself rolling her eyes.
‘We were discussing the active and reactive approaches to Mission.’
‘That sounds fascinating.’
‘I understand that religion is not your thing, Mr Stevenson.’ Kate sighed. ‘Can we talk about something else?’
There was a brief silence. ‘OK, what do you think of Pastor Mackenzie?’
Kate’s face went through a number of contortions, all of them denoting surprise. She put down the remains of her cake and smiled. ‘You know Malcolm?’
‘I spoke to him about Colette, and I’d value your opinion about him.’
‘I think he’s completely inspirational.’
Mona stood on Maitland’s foot to warn him not to express an opinion. ‘In what way?’
Kate thought for a minute. ‘Well, with all this Virus stuff. He’s been fantastic at helping people cope with all the uncertainty.’
‘And people are grateful for that?’
The colour was rising in Kate’s cheeks. ‘It’s just a shame some of the things that people say about him.’
Maitland pulled his foot out from under Mona’s and spoke. ‘Like what?’
‘Like total nonsense. Malcolm has been magnificent at supporting people through the Virus, but some people are just . . .’
‘Just what?’ asked Mona.
Kate looked at her watch. ‘I’ve got a lecture to go to.’ She got to her feet, leaving her cake unfinished. ‘Good luck finding Donny.’
Maitland watched her hurry out the door.
‘You know what, Mona?’
‘What?’
‘That girl has got a really fine arse.’
2
‘Well, Bernard, this is fun, isn’t it?’
Paterson smiled at him. He slouched further down in his seat, arms folded, watching the streets flash by the car window. He had a sneaking suspicion that his discomfort made Paterson feel more cheerful. If his boss wanted to make him miserable, let him. He couldn’t make him feel worse than his wife already had. She had returned to their flat in the early hours of the morning, and they hadn’t yet spoken.
‘So, the way I see it, Bern, we go down there, throw a few chairs about until Vic Thompson tells us what the hell is going on.’
‘Throw some chairs about?’ He attempted to sit upright, but was trapped by the seat belt. ‘Is that, strictly speaking, legal, Mr Paterson?’
‘Metaphorical chairs, Bernie, metaphorical chairs.’ Paterson grinned. ‘Can’t bloody touch people’s property these days. I remember once, when I’d just started in the Force . . .’
‘I think that’s us here.’ Bernard pointed to the railings outside Morley’s, glad of the excuse to stop his boss’s reminiscences of violence past. Paterson slammed on the brakes and looked round for a place to park. He reversed back a couple of car lengths into an available space. Bernard got out and stared pointedly at the double yellow lines under the back wheels of the car.
‘Something to say, Bernie?’
He opened his mouth, then thought better of it.
‘OK, let’s roll.’ Paterson jogged down the stairs, and paused with a hand on the door. ‘And let me do the talking.’
There was a familiar barman polishing glasses.
‘I’m pretty sure they’ve relocated the bar from one side of the room to the other,’ Paterson scanned round the room, ‘but the ambience remains the same.’
‘Can I help you?’
‘Is Vic in?’ Paterson asked.
‘Cards,’ said the barman. He recognised Bernard. ‘You again.’
‘Hi,’ said Bernard and gave the barman a wave, which he regretted when Paterson raised his eyes to the ceiling. Bernard wondered what an acceptable way to greet a potential Defaulter witness would be in Paterson’s eyes. He suspected it involved overturned furniture
and swearing.
Paterson turned to the barman. ‘Get your boss. Now.’
He tutted, but disappeared into the back. A minute later Victor Thompson appeared, with a smirk on his face.
‘No offence, Mr Paterson, but I prefer it when you send the pretty lady round to ruin my day instead of doing it in person.’
‘Yeah, but she said she didn’t want that old pervert Thompson staring at her tits again, so I said I’d call round myself.’
Vic Thomson smiled. ‘From what I hear Ms Whyte’s got no objections to older men.’
Bernard felt his mouth shape itself into a perfect o of horror.
Vic looked at his face and laughed. ‘Well, that’s the pleasantries out of the way.’
‘Shall we go through the back?’ said Paterson, gesturing at the empty room. ‘I wouldn’t want to disturb any of your customers.’
Ignoring the jibe, Vic opened the door to the back room and waved them through. Bernard sat down at the same table as the previous day. Paterson threw himself onto the chair that had obviously just been vacated by Vic, who leaned across and grabbed the papers that were now lying in front of the HET boss.
‘So, what is it today, Mr Paterson? I told your colleague here that I didn’t recognise the young woman you were looking for.’
Bernard spoke. ‘You said we could leave the picture for your bar staff to look at – did anyone else know her?’
‘No, I’m afraid not,’ said Vic. ‘No-one recognised her at all. Sorry you’ve had another wasted trip.’
He looked at Paterson as if he was expecting him to leave. Paterson settled down further in the chair. ‘Thing is, Mr Thompson, we’ve now got a second No Show who was known to frequent here.’
‘So what?’ Vic pulled up a chair and joined them at the table. ‘Lots of people come here. You looking for two of my clientele is what I’d call a coincidence.’
‘I’d agree with that, if the two people in question were hairy-arsed bikers with tattoos and drug habits. But these are two young, middle-class students we’re talking about. Since when was this place the hang-out of choice for your ivory tower types?’