“How can I help you Inspector.” Asked Angus as he sat at the kitchen table.
It’s Sergeant actually sir, Inspector one day perhaps, but for now just sergeant.”
“I’m sorry, how can I help you Sergeant for now.”
Josie smiled, she liked Angus. It was hard not to. She hadn’t met Maggie Macintosh but by all accounts she wasn’t at all like her husband. Josie wondered what had drawn them together.
“I came by to tell you that we’ve been in touch with the bank and your wife’s mobile phone provider. There’s been no activity so far, but if there is any movement on her accounts or if she uses her phone we’ll be informed. Our cyber team have accessed her Facebook and Twitter account and we’re monitoring them too. We don’t expect her to post directly on her pages, people who abscond seldom update their status, but you’d be surprised how many pop up with a new name but the same photos and friends as the missing person.
“You said “abscond”. Are you going to arrest her?”
“No sir, absconding is what we call it when someone leaves in a hurry or secretly. It isn’t always to avoid the law but it’s become synonymous with that. When we find her we won’t arrest her but we will want to ask a few questions, just to be sure she’s safe.”
“Have you any leads, any clue where she might be?”
“I’ll be honest with you Mr Macintosh, no,” said the police officer. “I don’t usually deal with missing persons, but I’ve liaised with our team who do, and they say that when someone’s been planning it for as long as Maggie appears to have, and when they have the resources Maggie can draw on, then they’re often not found. If Mrs Macintosh has left the country, and it looks like that was her plan, we may never find her. We’ll circulate her details to the authorities in Europe, the USA, Australia and New Zealand, but if she’s determined to stay hidden she probably can.
“I don’t understand though, if she was unhappy why didn’t she tell me. We’d have worked it out or I’d have given her a divorce. I’m not a monster.”
“We don’t think you are sir. But would you say you were happily married?”
“I thought so, but I guess we’d grown apart a bit. I let her do whatever she wanted, I never stood in her way. She had no money worries, she just wanted to shop, diet and exercise. I didn’t even know about the bastard gardener, but he seemed to have been keeping her happy too. He’s not been around this week by the way, has he gone as well?”
“No sir, we’ve talked to him, but he wasn’t surprised to hear she’d gone. Apparently she’d mentioned leaving but they hadn’t planned anything together. He got the feeling that when she went that would be that, he wasn’t expecting to go with her.” Josie referred to her notes and read. “She just wanted a bit of fun with a younger man, one with lots of energy, not like her husband who was too old and always tired.”
“Is that what he said, the bastard. I’ve got plenty of energy,” said Angus. “Maggie asked me to use another room because my snoring disturbed her sleep. And all this time she’s been shagging him in my place”. His shoulders slumped, “I feel like a total idiot.”
“He did ask me to apologise on his behalf,” said Josie. “He claims it was Maggie who started it, he said he’d understand if you wanted to find a new gardener.”
Angus sighed, he leaned back for a moment and gathered his thoughts. He took a drink of tea and asked, “What about the Bitcoins? You said you had talked to her bank. There’s a million quid in those things somewhere, have they turned up?”
“No. Again I don’t normally deal with this. The financial investigation team have it now and I gave them the code we found on her computer. There has been just the one transaction through that account, the five hundred pounds she put in and Trevor moved on. We don’t know her new account details. Without that, and the password, I’m sorry but the money’s untraceable. Cryptocurrencies are a big problem for law enforcement all over the world. Vast amounts are moved around and often it’s the proceeds of crime.”
“But Maggie’s money’s not criminal, they even paid the inheritance tax.”
“Yes, and while it stays in that format she’s fine. When she comes to spend it however, depending on the country she’s in, there could be questions about how she came by the money. She’s not the first person to use Bitcoins as a runaway fund. According to my colleagues she won’t need much for a fake passport and a new identity in the USA.”
“Are you saying I may never see Maggie again?” asked Angus.
“No sir. I’m just laying out the facts, and saying that if Maggie is careful and if it’s her intention, she may be able to stay hidden for a very long time.”
Angus sat back and tried to absorb this information. His wife was gone, she’d taken enough money to disappear and according to this police officer she’d been planning it for months. When she got to the United States she’d become someone new, put on a few pounds, change her hair style and give it a new colour. Add a pair of clear glass spectacles and she’d be unrecognisable as Maggie Macintosh of Wimplebridge village.
“Thank you for coming to see me,” said Angus. “Where do we go from here?’
“Well as I’ve said, we have talked to her bank and her phone provider. If there’s any activity they’ll let us know. Her passport’s flagged and if she goes through an airport of tries to board the Eurostar we will be informed. But if she has a friend with a boat, or pays someone to take her, she could cross the channel or go to Ireland and we wouldn’t know. You must keep in mind that she hasn’t actually committed a crime, not yet anyway.”
“Well if I hear anything I’ll call your mobile,” said Angus
“And we’ll be in touch if there is any movement at our end,” replied Josie.
They got up and were leaving the cottage through the garden when Claudilia and Helen arrived.
“Any tea left? I’m parched,” said Claudilia.
“Make a fresh pot and I’ll be back in a moment,” said Angus. “I just want to say goodbye to the police Inspector, sorry Sergeant, It’s just that the title suits you somehow.”
Josie drove slowly out of the village and all the way back to Stratford. There was something wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on it but there was something wrong.
Back at the station Josie found Paul Tipton in the canteen. She dropped into a chair opposite him and waited for the younger man to put down his half eaten sandwich. “I’ve been back out to see Angus Macintosh. He was on a horse, he’d been out riding with the Belcher woman. He seems to be enjoying life a bit too much for my liking.” Josie eyed the sandwich with envy. When had she last eaten? “Tell me Paul, do you think Mrs Macintosh was a bit controlling?”
“You saw the house Ma’am, there wasn’t a speck of dust or a crumpled sheet anywhere. It’s like something from Homes and Gardens. I’m not saying Mrs Tipton isn’t house proud, but the Macintoshes had a cleaner and gardener who came every day.”
“Good point. We know what the gardener was there for but have we talked to the cleaner.”
“Yes Ma’am, I did it by phone this morning. She said that Maggie demanded the place was spotless, she had clean sheets every day and she, the cleaner, often found a second set in the laundry.”
“I guess she changed them when she’d finished with the gardener.”
“Well the cleaner, a Polish lady, Nadia Wiśniewski, means “cherry” apparently, said it was odd that she used so much laundry because her husband slept in another room, and she only changed his bed once a week. She thought Angus must commute across the hall for “seks” because there was often stains or marks on the laundry.”
“Did she say anything about Maggie going away?”
“No, she’s just been going in and doing her job as usual. I get the feeling she’s not the sharpest knife in the box Ma’am.”
Josie thought for a moment, “So where are we with this Paul?”
“Dead end Ma’am.” said Paul through a mouthful of sandwich.
“I think
you’re right,” Josie stood up and stretched, her back clicking as she straightened up. “I’m off home in a minute but I just want to check a couple of things first.”
“Yes Ma’am,” the last of the sandwich disappeared into his mouth.
“And will you please stop it with the Ma’ams.”
Josie went back to her office and settled behind her desk. She logged onto her steam powered computer and waited while the processor wheezed into life. There was nothing from Border Control, so Maggie hadn’t passed through customs in the last twenty four hours. Her debit and credit cards hadn’t been touched and her phone appeared to be switched off. Finally she logged into the Bitcoin account where, as she expected, there’d been no activity.
Josie had to accept that Maggie was gone, she’d left of her own free will, and in a force with too many commitments and not enough resources Josie couldn’t spend any more time pursuing her. Josie’s final task was to write a brief report for her inspector. She laid out the facts and detailed the developments so far. That didn’t take long. Reluctantly Josie suggested that Mrs Macintosh be reclassified as a person who was absent rather than missing.
An absent person is defined as someone ‘who is not at a place where they are expected or required to be.”. They are also perceived to be at ‘no apparent risk’. Maggie Macintosh had been planning this, there was no question about it, she had the resources at her disposal and had chosen her departure time with care. It was odd that she hadn’t gone on Friday evening though, as soon as Angus had left for Scotland, but she must have had her reasons for sticking around until Sunday lunchtime. This niggled at Josie, so she called Angus on his mobile and found he was still at Bindweed Cottage. Apparently Helen was showing him how to do a Tesco’s shop online.
“Just a quick question sir,” said Josie. “If your wife was going to leave while you were in Scotland, can you think of any reason why she didn’t go on Friday evening, as soon as she knew you were on your way north? It would have given her a couple of extra days before she was missed.”
“I’ve wondered that too.” Said Angus. “I can only think it was because the kids always phone on Sunday if they spend the weekend at school. They call just after lunch.”
“Is that part of your routine Mr Macintosh?”
“Yes, Because I was away they’d chosen to stay at school. I told them to be nice to Maggie and to phone her as normal. I guess she thought that if they couldn’t talk to her, then they’d call my mobile and it’d alert me to her absence.”
Josie thanked him and ended the call. She scanned the screen in front of her then clicked on the file named House phone records. Each call to and from the house phone was logged with a number, the date and time, and if possible a caller’s name. Sure enough, there was a conversation between the Macintosh house and one of the children’s phones at two minutes past two on Sunday. It had lasted just over a minute, so no chit-chat about life at school and what they’d be doing in the holidays. The Macintosh children had complied with their father’s instruction and called the house at the appointed hour.
Well that clears that up. Maggie was continuing with the charade right up until the moment she left.
Josie concluded her message to her boss with a suggestion they continue with e-monitoring, but in her opinion Maggie was long gone.
Chapter Fifty-One
“That was DS Robinson again,” said Angus putting his phone back in his pocket. “She wanted to know why Maggie chose not to leave till Sunday afternoon.”
“Where do you think she’s gone then Angus.” Asked Helen. It felt odd not calling him Mr Macintosh.
“I don’t know,” said Angus, “ but she seems to have been planning it for a while. The police think she’s gone to America. If she turns up at all it will be with her brother in New York.”
“Will he send her back?”
“No, he doesn’t like me and I don’t like him. Anyway this isn’t the Middle East or the Middle Ages for that matter. If she’s chosen to leave, she can leave. I can’t stop her, but I hope she gets in touch one day, I’d like to know she’s okay.” …we’re going to need a Ouija board for that, Angus.
“To be honest, I don’t expect she’ll ever come back.”
Angus had told Josie the truth. Helen had been showing him how to do a food shop on the internet. With her help he had found several recipes to try, together they added the ingredients to his basket. He didn’t know what was in the cupboards of the Manor kitchen, but he was sure it would be very healthy, and not at all appetising.
Angus and Helen took care of the food shopping before Claudilia helped him pick wines and beers to go with each meal. Tomorrow was Thursday and Angus had decided to try his hand at a spaghetti bolognese, Claudilia had chosen a simple Sicilian red and, as cooking for one was no fun, whatever Delia Smith said, she’d invited herself for dinner - just to make sure he was doing it right.
With the shopping finished and paid for, Angus roused Hamish from the settee where he had been snoozing with Max. Together they walked through the village, past the pub and across Upper Bridge. This was the same walk they’d taken all those years ago, when Victoria was still alive, and Hamish was just a puppy. They paused for a moment when they reached the sign announcing Macintosh Manor. Tomorrow he’d have that removed and see if he could find the old sign, the one that just said The Manor. He’d never liked the great big thing, it felt ostentatious and vulgar. As he approached the front door he caught sight of Maggie’s car, another reminder of how she liked to flaunt their wealth; He’d call some dealers tomorrow and see what they’d offer for her Evoque. Maggie was gone, and as he let himself into the home he’d created with Victoria, he began to plan how he’d return the place back to its former glory, the way it had been before he’d let that woman into his life.
As he stood in the hallway Angus was momentarily thrown by the unfamiliar beep, beep, beeping of the house alarm. He seldom used it, today it must have been set by Nadia when she left. He looked at the keypad by the door and tried to remember the code, was it his birthday? No. What about Maggie’s, or their wedding anniversary? None of those dates worked; there was only seconds left when he remembered the spare fob, the one in the table drawer behind him. He grabbed the small black disk and held it to the reader, a single peep told him the system was disarmed, Angus began to breathe again.
He thought about the alarm for a moment, it was part of the house’s security system. If the alarm was tripped the signal went to a control centre and eventually the police would be called. There were cameras too, they were installed around the outside of the house, and they recorded to an online account all the time, writing over themselves every twenty eight days. Why hadn’t he thought of the cameras when he was talking to the police. He was sure they’d give some useful information, perhaps they’d even show who picked up Maggie, and what time she left on Sunday.
Angus went to his wife’s study. He’d left his own laptop at the office when he’d walked to the pub for lunch, so he’d have to use Maggie’s machine instead. The naked photo of his wife appeared as soon as he touched the space bar. Once again Angus wondered who the photographer had been, he’d come back to that later. He clicked the internet explorer and navigated to where the cameras recorded every movement around the outside of the house.
Cloud storage is cheap, but Angus couldn’t see the point of saving images for ever. After a month the old footage was deleted and the space overwritten. Angus didn’t need to go back far, he set the timer to noon on the previous Friday and waited for the split screen to load its images.
Angus sat in his wife’s chair and watched the screens; the front of the house, the garage and driveway, the patio and garden and the path to Macintosh Energy. He saw Hamish trot across the lawn and pee on a flower bed. He saw the postman drive up, push letters through the door and leave again. The gardener mowed the lawn and Nadia drove away in her ancient Fiesta. Angus scrolled forward then watched himself leave for his shooting trip, bags went into his
car and were followed by Hamish, who he lifted onto the front passenger seat. The rest of Friday afternoon and evening was quiet, he scrolled quickly through the hours, slowing once when a vixen and her cubs tripped the security lights. They crossed the lawn on their way to the energy plant. Out for a dinner of mice he assumed.
The images changed as Saturday dawned, Tish arrived at half past eight and at nine fifteen Maggie and the trainer walked across the patio to the gym. They didn’t emerge for two hours, and during that time there was no other activity. The ladies enjoyed a swim, then lay around in the sun for a while. Tish left just before two.
Angus slowed the player, he knew Claudilia would appear in an hour and before that the gardener would arrive. At twenty past two Giles pulled up in his truck. Dressed in shorts and a singlet he looked like he’d come straight from a job. He didn’t unload any tools, he just went to the back garden where he found Maggie sunning herself by the pool. They kissed and she led him into the house. Angus scrolled forward a few minutes. Then he watched as Maggie, now changed into a bikini made of dental floss, lead Giles across the lawn to the gym. In one hand she carried an ice bucket and bottle, Angus would bet she had his very expensive Champagne. In her other hand she carried two glasses.
Angus speeded up the player again and soon Claudilia was cycling up the drive. She left her bike at the front door and after a minute he watched her walk into the garden and cross the lawn to the gym, exactly as she’d told him and the police. At the increased speed Claudilia was only inside for a few seconds before she was crossing the lawn again and cycling away.
Giles and Maggie were both naked when they came out of the gym and jumped into the pool, they splashed around for a while before going into the house. He’d never taken much notice of other men’s bits, but Angus had to admit that Giles had impressive equipment. Perhaps when he wasn’t cutting grass or screwing his client’s wives he could use it for putting out fires, or maybe banging in nails. The last activity on Saturday was the gardener’s truck leaving at just after nine o’clock.
The Village Fate Page 28