by Ford, P. F.
He opened a drawer and produced a mobile phone.
‘Here,’ he said, handing it to Slater. ‘You can see what she had to say for herself.’
Slater took the phone and began to thumb his way through the text messages. There were four in total, spread over seven days, starting two days after she had last been seen. As he read through them, Slater became more and more convinced there was something very odd about them.
According to Warwick, he and Ruth had a very non-sexual relationship. In fact, the way he told it they hardly had a relationship at all – they just prayed together. Yet the tone of the text messages suggested Ruth had been apologising for breaking off a warm, loving, and obviously sexual, relationship. Here was something else that didn’t make sense.
‘These texts would suggest that your relationship with Ruth consisted of rather more than just praying together, don’t you think?’
‘Who can say what goes on in the mind of such a sinner, Sergeant? It’s true we had talked of the possibility of us perhaps getting married one day, but first she had to prove her repentance and I thought that was still a long way off. In fact, it looks as though she’s never going to achieve it now. I tried but I failed. Such is life, I’m afraid.’
Slater looked hard at Warwick, almost as if he was trying to see right inside the man’s head, but of course, he couldn’t. He wondered why Warwick would keep the messages when he seemed to have so readily dismissed Ruth as a waste of his time, and yet there seemed to be no anger at her wasting his time and cheating on him.
‘Don’t you feel angry that she let you down?’
‘What good would anger do, Sergeant? Some of us are strong and some of us are weak. Anger is the property of the weak.’
Slater felt he couldn’t take much more of this sanctimonious bullshit. He had to get out of there before he did something very unprofessional, so he made his excuses and left. As he drove away, his mind was spinning into overdrive. What on earth was going on here? And why did the previous investigation turn a blind eye to all these inconsistencies?
Was it simply the case that with the texts as evidence, no body, and nothing to suggest foul play, they just chose the easiest way out? It crossed his mind that it would be quite easy for him to do exactly the same. After all, it would be a lot less hassle.
But Dave Slater was tenacious, rather like a dog that has discovered a new smell. And he felt this particular smell was becoming more interesting by the minute. He wasn’t going to stop sniffing around just yet.
‘So what do you think? Are you going to take it on?’ asked Jenny Radstock.
Slater shifted the phone to a more comfortable position.
‘You’re very persistent, Ms Radstock,’ he replied.
‘It’s a good way to make sure I get what I want,’ she said. ‘And in my experience, it usually works.’
‘And what is it you want?’
‘I want to make sure you take this case.’
‘And if I say no?’
‘I’ll be very disappointed,’ she said. ‘This case needs someone who can be relied upon to do a thorough job; someone who’s tenacious enough to see it through to the end. I know you’ve spoken to Beverley Green. You seem to have a fan there; she was very impressed. I think she would be very grateful if you could find out what really happened to Ruth.’
The implied innuendo made it quite clear how Jenny thought Beverley might show her gratitude, but Slater was unimpressed. In fact, he was rather insulted by the suggestion he could be persuaded by such an offer.
‘Really,’ he said, dryly. ‘I’ll be sure to bear that in mind when I make my decision.’
‘But surely you’ve seen enough by now,’ she protested. ‘Don’t tell me you’re not intrigued.’
‘I suppose I could easily go mad if I sit here staring at four walls much longer.’
‘So you will take it then?’ she asked, triumphantly.
‘It’s not as if I’ve got anything else to do right now, is it?’ he said, sighing.
‘You won’t regret this, Sergeant. And, like I said before, I’d like to meet up so you can keep me up to date with your progress.’
‘Would these meetings be official, or simply to satisfy your curiosity?’ he asked.
‘Oh, I have lots of curiosity, Sergeant. Don’t you?’
He declined to comment.
‘Well, you’ve got my number,’ she said. ‘Give me a ring when you’re ready. I have a weekend house near Tinton – we could meet there. I have to go now. Bye.’
Slater looked at the now dead phone in his hand, and made a mental note to ignore her invitation. He was quite sure his boss would be less than impressed if he even suspected Slater was sharing information with a member of the public, and the last thing he needed now was more hassle.
Chapter Six
His appointment with Camilla Heywood, owner and editor of The Magazine, was fixed for 3.30pm, so Slater had a leisurely morning to effect some sort of recovery from yet another sleepless night before catching an early afternoon train up to London.
He was surprised to find the offices of The Magazine were quite small. He had been expecting some sprawling open-plan building, but what he found was a small, compact group of offices in a shared building. He thought it was hardly Fleet Street, then realised how stupid it was to think like that, remembering that most of Fleet Street’s finest were no longer anywhere near it.
Slater had done his research, and knew that Camilla Heywood was a great example of what hard work and forward thinking could achieve. Being young and inexperienced when she had started The Magazine, she had not been entrenched with preconceived ideas about glossy paper and circulation figures. She had quickly realised the opportunity offered by the increasing use of the internet and had started her venture online. This had given her a head start over many rival publications, whose much older editors had scoffed at the very idea that a magazine could work online. They were also rather put out that she had the audacity to call it The Magazine. They regarded her as crazy. People just wouldn’t read a magazine online no matter what it was called, they agreed behind her back.
Now, as the others saw their circulation figures falling and struggled to catch up and match her online performance, Camilla had the luxury of being regarded by the industry as the “go to” person for advice about online magazines. To her credit, though, she never seemed to gloat, and freely shared her thoughts with anyone who cared to listen. The upstart had come good, and was now well respected in her own right.
Slater had liked her straight away. She had the sort of cut glass accent that might have led him to describe her as a posh bird, and her clothes suggested no shortage of money in her life. There was no doubt she was both successful and busy, but she had welcomed him into her office, put everything else on hold, and given him her complete attention. Another thing he liked was the fact that she was happy to lead him across to a pair of comfy chairs either side of a coffee table and didn’t use her desk as a barrier between them. The coffee and biscuits (chocolate hobnobs were a favourite of his) were like icing on the cake.
She told him she was willing to help him in any way she could, so he had started as if with a blank canvas and asked her to describe how Ruth had managed to secure her position at the magazine. This was to be the first of a number of surprises.
‘Ah, yes.’ She laughed. ‘It’s not often I get caught out, but Ruth certainly pulled the wool over my eyes. Normally I wouldn’t give house room to any sort of fraud, but the thing was I genuinely liked her, and so did everyone else, especially visitors to the office.’
Slater was puzzled, and he was obviously doing a poor job of hiding it.
‘You look confused, Sergeant.’
‘Totally,’ he conceded. ‘According to her sister, Ruth had sent samples of her writing and you had taken her on as a clerk/receptionist with a view to developing her talent as a writer.’
‘Oh she sent samples,’ agreed Camilla. ‘And they were very good, but th
ey weren’t written by Ruth, and it became obvious within the first week that Ruth couldn’t write for toffee.’
‘She couldn’t?’ Now Slater really was confused, but he chose to keep quiet for the moment.
‘Sadly,’ said Camilla, shaking her head, ‘Ruth was dyslexic. But it wouldn’t have made any difference because she just couldn’t string a few sentences together on paper.’
‘So how come you kept her?’
‘That was a no-brainer decision.’ Camilla flashed a smile. ‘It sounds terribly sexist, I know, but with her looks and dress-sense she was a different sort of asset to this place. She had a gift for making people feel welcome and she could talk to absolutely everyone no matter what their background. Having her as the first point of contact here was just perfect. I was seriously disappointed, as were many of our male visitors, when she asked if she could go part-time.’
‘Part-time?’ Slater slumped in his seat. He thought Camilla must surely be describing another girl altogether. This couldn’t be the same girl, could it?
‘Is there a problem?’ asked Camilla. ‘Only I get the feeling I’m not telling you what you wanted to hear.’
He didn’t want to give too much away, so he said nothing as he reached into his pocket and produced one of the photos of Ruth given to him by her sister.
‘We are talking about the same girl, aren’t we?’ he asked, passing the photograph to Camilla.
She smiled as he handed over the photo, but the smile disappeared as she glanced down at it. She looked closer, squinting to get a better look.
‘Goodness,’ she said. ‘I suppose it could be her.’ She walked over to her desk, returning with spectacles in place. They gave her a more serious air as she studied the photo again. After about 30 seconds, she looked up at him again.
‘Yes, it is her,’ she agreed. ‘But where on earth did she get these awful clothes, and that old-fashioned hairstyle? I’ve never seen her looking anything like that! She’s always looked like a million dollars as far as I can recall. And super sexy. That’s why all the men liked her so much.’
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa!’ said Slater. ‘Are you telling me she was some sort of sex bomb?’
‘Let’s put it this way, Sergeant. If I could be half as sexy and sassy as Ruth was, I would have been a very, very happy girl.’
From where Slater was sitting, he reckoned Camilla was already a very attractive lady. And yet she thought Ruth Thornhill was the epitome of sexiness. Oh boy, what had he stumbled upon here?
‘I don’t want you to think I don’t believe you, Miss Heywood, but I’m having a great deal of difficulty making sense of this. You see, the picture you’re painting of Ruth is almost exactly the opposite of the picture painted by her sister.’
‘Now I’m intrigued,’ said Camilla. ‘What’s her sister been saying?’
‘I’m not sure I should be telling you,’ began Slater.
‘Come now, Sergeant. You’ve almost accused me of being a liar. At least tell me why.’
She walked across to her desk and picked up the phone.
‘Amber?’ she said, ‘More coffee please, and can you find me a couple of the photos from the Christmas party? The ones with you and Ruth together would be good. Thank you.’
She replaced the phone and walked back to her seat.
‘Now, Sergeant,’ she said, smiling. ‘Your turn to talk, don’t you think?’
‘I’m sorry,’ he replied defensively. ‘I didn’t mean to imply you’re not telling the truth. Let me explain and you’ll see why I’m somewhat confused.’
‘According to Ruth’s sister,’ he continued, ‘Ruth got the job here on the strength of her writing. She started as a receptionist/clerk and began to work her way up. She had been appointed as a staff writer not long before she disappeared, and she got the odd credit under the name of Ruby Rider.’
At that moment, there was a knock on the door.
‘Come in,’ called Camilla.
A young girl with striking red hair came in, looking nervous and carrying a tray of coffee. She looked about 16, but Slater guessed she was probably 19 or maybe 20. She walked across and placed the tray on the coffee table, then handed an envelope to Camilla.
‘This is Amber,’ said Camilla. ‘Amber, this is Sergeant Slater. He’s looking into Ruth’s disappearance.’
Amber obviously wasn’t used to dealing with police officers. She regarded Slater with wide eyes, as though he were so different from the rest of them he was perhaps a Martian.
‘I thought she’d run away,’ she said, ‘with some bloke.’
‘That may well be the case,’ agreed Slater, ‘I’m just trying to prove it.’
‘Thank you, Amber,’ said Camilla. ‘That will be all for now.’
Then, as Amber turned to walk away, she added, ‘One more thing, please. When you get back to your desk, could you ask Ruby if she would pop her head around the door?’
She waited for the girl to leave before resuming their conversation.
‘It’s a funny thing,’ she said, ‘But Ruth never mentioned anything about a boyfriend. You’d think she might have mentioned it if she was keen enough to run away with him.’
She pondered the thought for moment.
‘Then again,’ she mused. ‘Now I think about it, she never really told anyone anything about herself.’
‘I thought you said she was good talker,’ pointed out Slater.
‘Oh, she could talk alright,’ said Camilla. ‘She could talk for England. But she never actually told you anything about herself. She had that gift for getting others to talk about themselves, so she never needed to tell anyone anything about herself.’
She suddenly seemed to realise she was still holding the envelope Amber had given her. She pulled the three photos out and took a quick look before handing them over to Slater.
‘Admittedly these were taken at our Christmas party, so everyone was dressed up, but this is the Ruth we knew here. Now what would you say? Frumpy? Or sexy?’
He took the photos and studied them carefully. Each one showed two girls. One was obviously Amber, with her long, flowing red hair and pretty face. On her own she would have made a pretty picture, but the girl beside her, being ten years older and about a hundred years more sophisticated, was the one who caught the eye.
The dress she wore accentuated a fabulous figure and she had the classic face of an English rose, framed with fashionably styled, glossy hair. Slater thought Ruth Thornhill looked absolutely stunning. He looked again at the photo he had been given by her sister. If you looked closely you could see they might be the same girl, but just as obviously they weren’t the same person.
‘Wow!’ was all he could say.
‘Wow, indeed,’ agreed Camilla. ‘Who do you think all the men had eyes for? There were a lot of jealous wives that night, that’s for sure.’
There was another knock on the door. This time it opened just enough for a woman to appear. She was obviously well into her late 40s, with the well-worn look of a harassed mother.
‘You wanted to see me?’ she asked.
‘Ah, Ruby. Thank you for coming by. The sergeant here wanted to see the real Ruby Rider for himself.’
Slater had more or less seen that one coming as soon as Camilla had asked Amber to send Ruby along, but even so, he still managed to feel embarrassed.
‘Err, yes. Right,’ he said, uncomfortably. ‘Hello, Ruby. Thank you for coming down. I just wanted to eliminate you from my inquiry.’
‘Does that mean you won’t be arresting me?’ asked Ruby, with a smile.
‘I’m afraid so.’ He smiled back.
‘Damn.’ She grinned. ‘I never get to have any fun.’ She winked amiably at him, then closed the door and was gone.
Camilla turned to Slater.
‘I’m sorry if I’ve made your inquiry go all pear-shaped,’ she said with a half-smile. ‘But is there anything I can do that might actually help?’
‘Pear-shaped is more interesting,’ he sa
id, jokingly. ‘Can I have a copy of this photograph? That would help.’
‘I can do better than that. I’ve got some with her dressed for work rather than for a party. That would be better, wouldn’t it?’
‘Yes. Yes, it would,’ he agreed, ‘Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.’
‘I’ll get onto that right away,’ she said heading for her desk. ‘I’m sure I’ve got them in my desk. Is there anything else?’
‘There is one thing, although as she wasn’t a staff writer it probably won’t mean anything to you. Do you know of a hotel in London called The Mistral? Apparently you paid for her to stay in this hotel now she was a staff writer.’
Her face told him her answer before she spoke.
‘I’m sorry. I’ve never heard of The Mistral hotel, and I certainly don’t pay for my staff writers to stay in hotels. We’re an online business. That’s why this place is so small. It serves mainly as a place for me to meet clients to discuss advertising. Most of my writers work from home and just come in once a week. On any other day you would have missed Ruby.’
‘Oh well. I had to ask,’ said Slater, unsurprised to have drawn another blank.
She rummaged in her desk, finally producing two photographs of Ruth immaculately made-up and finely dressed.
Camilla sighed, and handed the photos over.
‘She could have been a great model. She had everything.’
Slater looked at the two photos. He had to agree with Camilla. Ruth certainly appeared to have everything.
He had just one last question.
‘Is there anyone here she might have confided in?’
Camilla thought for a moment before answering.
‘The only one who might know anything would be Amber. They used to share reception and Ruth taught Amber how everything worked. Maybe they shared gossip.’
‘Is it okay if I talk to her?’
‘Of course, but you might find it easier after work. She’s very busy and conscientious. You’re welcome to try, but if you try to talk to her here she might tend to be distracted. And, you should know that she’s not very worldly. Being a police officer, you’ll probably intimidate her.’