Watching the Dark

by Peter Robinson

  Tony worked at a car dealership in the town centre, but that day, his boss had told them on the phone, he was at home with his wife, who was in the final stages of her second pregnancy. The fruits of the first, little Freddie, toddled around in a playpen filled with safe soft toys in the corner of the living room. They looked as if you could eat them, hit yourself on the head with them and jump up and down on them, and neither you nor they would be harmed in any way. Luckily, he was a quiet toddler.

  Melanie Leach was lying down on the sofa listening to Woman’s Hour. When she asked for a cup of tea, Annie suggested that she and Winsome accompany Tony to the kitchen to chat while he made some. Annie hoped they might get a cup of tea out of it themselves, too, but most of all she didn’t want to talk to Tony about his ex-girlfriend while his pregnant wife was in the same room.

  Tony was reluctant to leave Melanie alone, at first, but Annie reassured him that he wouldn’t be far away, and that he had two able-bodied police officers in the house. Why that should comfort him, she had no idea – though they were able enough in many ways, neither Annie or Winsome had any experience in delivering babies or attending to pregnant women – but it did. The only thing Annie knew was to shout for plenty of boiling water. She supposed, if anything happened, they could manage to call for an ambulance without panicking too much, and maybe even persuade it to arrive a bit quicker than it normally would, but she wasn’t even sure about that.

  ‘She’ll be fine,’ Tony said nervously, filling the kettle. ‘She’s just a bit jittery because it was a difficult birth last time, with our Freddie.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Annie agreed. She studied the view from the window, a small back garden full of bright plastic toys, including a blue and yellow tricycle, orange skittles and a purple ball. There was also a swing, which reminded Annie of the swing her parents had put up for her in the artists’ commune where she grew up. She had loved that swing. She had very strong memories of her mother pushing her up higher and higher in it when she was very little. At the end of the garden was a brick wall and a privet hedge. ‘It’s just a quick word we wanted, really,’ Annie went on. ‘I can see you’ve got a lot on your plate.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. She’ll be all right. Doctor says there’s nothing to worry about.’

  Tony was a handsome lad in his mid-twenties, fair hair combed back, a lock slipping over his right eye, tall, footballer fit, a nice smile. He pulled two teabags from a Will & Kate Wedding tin and dropped them into a large teapot, warming it first with hot water from the tap. The teapot was easily big enough for four cups, Annie thought. She might be in luck. The kettle soon came to a boil and Tony filled the teapot.

  ‘Why did you and Rachel split up?’ Annie asked. She had taken a chair at the kitchen table, and Tony was leaning against the draining board by the window.

  ‘Why does anybody split up?’ he said. ‘We stopped getting along. Fell out of love.’

  ‘But you were in love once?’ Winsome said.

  Tony paused before answering. ‘I thought so,’ he said. ‘We’d been going out for two years, after all.’

  ‘Was there someone else? Another boy?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’

  ‘Did Rachel go out with other people?’

  ‘Sometimes, in the early days. We both did. We weren’t exclusive.’

  ‘But you got more serious?’

  ‘I’d like to think so.’

  ‘You never got engaged, though?’

  ‘No. It never got that far.’

  ‘Sex?’ Annie asked.

  ‘None of your business.’

  ‘Fair enough. Milk and two sugars for me, please.’

  Tony brought some mugs down from the cupboard, asked Winsome how she wanted hers and poured them both some tea. Then he put what seemed like half a pint of milk and three tablespoons of sugar into one mug and took it through to Melanie. Annie heard their voices, but not what they said. He came back and poured himself a mug of black tea, builder’s strength. ‘I get the impression that you’d rather continue the discussion in here,’ he said, sitting down opposite Annie. Winsome joined them at the table. ‘Not that I have any secrets from Melanie.’

  ‘All we want from you,’ said Winsome, ‘is some insight into Rachel, what she was like. It might help us understand what happened to her.’

  ‘But I went over all this years ago with the other detective. Why drag it all back up now?’

  ‘It never went away,’ Winsome said. ‘Rachel was never found. Now her name’s come up again in connection with another case we’re working on, and we have to pursue the line of inquiry.’

  ‘What line of inquiry?’

  ‘The “other detective” you mentioned was murdered a week ago. You might have heard.’

  ‘DI Quinn?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Bloody hell. I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard, actually. He was the one who talked to me back when it happened.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘He was a decent enough bloke.’

  ‘So they say. What happened to Rachel might have some bearing on what happened to Bill Quinn. That’s why we’re going through all this. I can’t really tell you any more than that.’

  ‘That’s all right. I understand.’

  ‘Only you can tell us certain things. Her parents have one view – it was their darling daughter – but you might be able to provide a different perspective.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ said Tony. He glanced at Annie. ‘I’m sorry. You asked about sex. It was fine. No problems there.’

  ‘She enjoyed it?’

  ‘As far as I could tell. Rachel wasn’t promiscuous or kinky or anything. I’d say she was pretty normal in that department.’

  ‘Did you argue much?’ Winsome asked.

  ‘Every couple argues, don’t they?’

  ‘What sort of things did you argue about?’

  ‘I don’t remember, really. Nothing important. Holidays. She liked beaches, and I preferred cities. Money. We never seemed to have enough to go to all the fancy clubs and shops she liked. That sort of thing.’

  Annie gestured around the kitchen and garden. ‘You seem to be doing all right now financially.’

  ‘All this came later. I’ve got nothing to complain about. Melanie and Freddie are happy here. It’s even big enough to accommodate Chloe, when she comes along.’

  ‘So you already know the gender?’

  Tony beamed. ‘Yes. Ultrasound. We couldn’t resist.’

  ‘A girl,’ said Winsome. ‘One of each. That’s nice.’

  ‘So you’re doing all right?’ Annie pushed on. ‘Can afford a decent house and two kids to bring up. That’s pretty good in these tough times.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t mind a raise and a promotion, but yes, I think I’m damn lucky to have a job I like, and I’m good at. The thing is, this would hardly have made it as “all right” for Rachel.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Annie asked.

  ‘It was probably the one thing we argued about most. She liked money and the things it bought. Maybe a bit too much for my liking.’

  ‘She was greedy?’

  ‘Not greedy or grasping or anything like that. It was just . . . like the magazines she read, with pictures of fancy cars and houses and yachts and stuff.’

  ‘But that’s just fantasy, surely?’

  ‘Not to her it wasn’t. It was her dream. She was serious about it. The worst thing I could do was criticise her dream.’

  Annie remembered the photograph of the BMW outside the art deco mansion on Rachel’s bedroom wall. ‘MINE ONE DAY!!’

  ‘How did it manifest itself?’ Annie asked.

  ‘She had a lot of rows with her parents. They wanted her to go to university and get a good education – she was certainly bright enough, and they were willing to pay – but she wanted to get right out there and start making money. She said she could learn any job she wanted and make her way up the ladder quickly, as she went along.
She could, too. She got a job in a bank. Not as a teller, but at head office, in the investments department. She was doing pretty well. She was smart, quick, ambitious. I know she would have gone far.’

  ‘And by then she would have left you behind?’

  ‘That was always a fear. Yes. Or she would have found someone richer.’

  ‘It sounds a bit mercenary. Was that why you split up?’

  ‘Mostly. I just wasn’t doing well enough for her, not progressing fast enough. And it didn’t exactly sound glamorous – a car salesman. At best you could say I wasn’t a used car salesman, I suppose. It’s true I’m not very ambitious, but is that such a terrible thing? Does everyone have to be pushy and grabbing? I’m happy as I am. She saw me stuck in a dead end job – I was in a showroom in Drighlington then – and never getting any further, wasting away her life in some dull suburb. It wasn’t what she wanted. I told her surely family came first. We could get a mortgage, buy a home, make it our own. But it wasn’t a home she wanted. It was one of those bloody mansions she goggled at in the celebrity lifestyle magazines and that other rubbish she read.’

  ‘Surely a girl can dream,’ said Annie. ‘Was there someone else on the scene? Someone who promised her all this?’

  ‘Not that I know of,’ said Tony. ‘No, we didn’t split up over someone else. After Rachel, I’ll admit I went wild for a bit. I don’t know. I just didn’t care. Love them and leave them. Not very nice, but there it was. Then I met Melanie, and she turned everything around. It was like I’d finally found what I wanted in life.’

  ‘And Rachel, after you split up?’

  ‘Her ambition made her restless. I don’t think she’d found anyone else. She wasn’t going to settle for a loser like me next time, that’s for sure, and as it turned out, she didn’t have to, did she?’

  ‘But as far as you know, there was no one else in the offing, no one she might have invited to meet her in Tallinn, for example?’

  ‘No. Besides, that was a hen weekend. Strictly no boyfriends.’

  They all paused and sipped tea, then Annie said, ‘This might be a rather indelicate question, but we think it’s important. You say that Rachel was ambitious, liked money and its trappings, that she rowed with her parents about getting a job instead of going to university, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Do you think that might have led her to do anything illegal?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Drugs, for example.’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘I mean selling, smuggling. Not necessarily taking them.’

  ‘Dealing? Rachel?’ He started shaking his head. ‘No way. Rachel wouldn’t get involved in anything like that. Rachel really did want to do good and help people, you know. If she’d realised her dreams and got hold of oodles of money, she’d probably have ended up like Warren Buffett or Bill Gates or someone, as long as she could have her Disney mansion and her magic carpet. No, you’re on the wrong track entirely.’

  ‘Believe it or not,’ said Winsome. ‘We’re perfectly happy to know that. It would have made our job a lot more complicated if it were true. But we have to check on these things.’

  ‘Leave no stone unturned, right?’

  ‘Something like that. We’re just trying to find reasons for what might have happened to Rachel in Tallinn, and falling foul of international drug-smugglers was one scenario. They can be very ruthless.’

  ‘When did you find out what happened?’ Annie asked.

  ‘I suppose it was about three or four days after she’d disappeared. A policeman came around. Uniformed. Wanted to know if I knew anything about where she was. Apparently DI Quinn was over in Tallinn then. He interviewed me in more detail when he got back a few days later, but I couldn’t help him.’

  ‘How did you react when you heard what had happened?’

  ‘I was gutted. Naturally. God, it was a terrible time. I went to see her parents, you know, just out of support and friendship, like, but they weren’t interested. I was yesterday’s news.’

  ‘How had you got along with them before?’

  ‘Well enough, I suppose. Or as well as anybody who wanted to steal away their precious little girl.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It was weird. Sometimes it was like they didn’t want her to grow up, and she didn’t want to. She was very childlike in some ways. If ever she was away, she had to phone her mother every day. They were always lovey-dovey, you know, with pet names and lots of hugs and kisses. You must have seen those awful stuffed animals if you’ve been to the house. And there was a stupid budgie she doted on. She’d spend hours talking to the bloody thing. I never thought I’d be jealous of a budgie, but if I’d had the chance I’d have opened the front door and the cage.’ He smiled. ‘But it was just a facet of her, that’s all. The little girl who doesn’t want to grow up, but who wants to be rich, a Disney princess. But she was bright and ambitious, good at her job, and she could be ruthless if she needed to be. At the same time, she couldn’t cut herself loose from her mother’s apron strings. It sometimes seemed like a tug of war between me and them, with her in middle. In the end none of us won.’

  It sounded like a nightmare to Annie, who had enjoyed a relatively liberal childhood in the commune. Admittedly, she had lost her mother at an early age, but there had been surrogates, even if there was no replacement. And her father Ray always did his best, even if he was a bit forgetful when he was ‘in’ a painting, as he used to say.

  ‘Did the two of you ever go away together?’ she asked.

  ‘Once,’ said Tony. ‘The year before . . . you know. We went on holiday together. Well, not just the two of us, a group, like.’

  ‘How did her parents react?’

  ‘They weren’t too keen at first, but Rachel was good at getting her own way. She probably had to promise not to sleep with me.’

  ‘Did she?’ asked Annie.

  Tony gave a wistful smile. ‘It was one of the best times of my life,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll take it she did, then. Where did you go?’

  ‘An all-inclusive on Varadero Beach, Cuba. We’d been saving up for it. It was expensive, but worth it.’

  ‘Cuba hardly sounds like the sort of environment for a girl like Rachel,’ said Winsome.

  ‘You’re right about that. She hadn’t much to say for the political system or the cleanliness of Havana. But she did love the beach and her Danielle Steele. And she phoned her mother every day.’

  ‘Dutiful daughter,’ Annie commented.

  ‘Look, I know some of this is coming out all wrong,’ said Tony. ‘But Rachel was a good person, despite it all, the ambition, the love of money. She had the biggest heart of anyone I’ve known. She’d do anything for you. She wasn’t greedy, and she wasn’t selfish. In the end, I suppose we just weren’t meant to be together.’

  ‘Did she make any friends over in Cuba, at the hotel, on the beach?’

  ‘Like who?’

  ‘Europeans, perhaps? Especially Eastern Europeans. Russians or Estonians, for example?’

  ‘Not that I know of. We pretty much stuck together the whole time.’ A sound came from the front room. ‘Is that Melanie calling?’

  Annie heard the voice, too. ‘Sounds like it,’ she said. ‘I think it’s time for us to go now.’ She was certain that when Tony took in the tea they had prearranged some signal to bring the interview to an end, and this was probably it. Annie looked at Winsome, who just shrugged, and they followed Tony through to the front door, wished him and Melanie well, and left.

  ‘I am not at all sure how I can help you,’ said Ursula Mardna. The Office of the Prosecutor General was in a neo-classical style two-storey house on Wismari, a peaceful, treelined street, not far from the Parliament building and the British Embassy. The place was an old private house, and Ursula Mardna’s office had probably been the master bedroom. It was a large space, with all the trappings of an important and powerful government official. Banks had been
watchful on their walk over there, and he didn’t think they had been followed. If his theory were correct, and Rätsepp had put someone on his tail to keep track of the progress of his investigation, then he probably already knew that Banks would be visiting Ursula Mardna this morning.

  You couldn’t really compare the function of the Prosecutor here that closely to the Crown Prosecution Service back home, Banks thought. From what he had read, the relationship was a lot more complicated and political, rather than just a matter of decisions being made on whether there was enough evidence, and whether the evidence was good enough to merit a prosecution. The Prosecutor guided an investigation in a very hands-on way, including the collection of evidence and use of surveillance. In some ways, he imagined, the Prosecutor was more like the American District Attorney, but perhaps even more complicated. Prosecutors would also turn up at crime scenes. Of course, the disappearance of a young English girl in Tallinn was a high-profile case, especially when she hadn’t been found after several days, or years.

  ‘We’re just trying to cover all the angles we can,’ said Banks, ‘and you were instrumental in the Rachel Hewitt investigation.’

  Ursula Mardna waved down Banks’s comment. ‘Please. It was not a most glorious success. I wake up still and think about that poor girl some nights.’ She had a strong accent but her English was clear, and for the most part correct. Banks placed her at about forty, or just over. That would have made her in her mid-thirties when she worked the Rachel Hewitt case. Quite young. It could have been a career-making case, if it had been solved. As it was, she didn’t seem to be doing too badly. She was stylishly dressed and attractive, with an oval face, lively brown eyes and reddish-blonde hair cut short and ragged around the edges, in a rather punkish, pixie style. She had no piercings that Banks could see, but wore some rather chunky rings and a heavy silver bracelet.