by Anita Waller
Wendy stared at the piece of paper. ‘We?’
‘You want me to make you a deputy’s badge? Look, we’ll go out to Hucknall and talk to Rosie, but this is nothing to do with Connection. I won’t be sending Rosie an invoice; we’ll be there simply as friends trying to find her lost sister. If we’re killed in action, it won’t come under the Connection insurance cover,’ she finished with a smile. ‘If I start involving Connection, the whole rigmarole of Harry and his ever-ready penis will come out, and I want to choose the right time to tell Mouse about it, not have it all come tumbling out because we have to issue an invoice. You up for it?’
‘Do I get a gun?’
‘No, only Sheriffs carry guns. I’ll have a quick bacon sandwich in view of the fact we’re not looking like getting lunch, and we can go to the Bowling Green tonight for a meal, if that’s okay with you.’
An hour later saw the two women in the car and heading towards Hucknall. Wendy was really enjoying being driven about, her own car still hidden inside her garage back in Sheffield. She took every opportunity to stare around her at the scenery, mentally wondering how anybody would ever choose to live down south when there was all this beauty north of the Watford Gap.
They pulled up outside Rosie’s house and the front door opened. Megan was standing there, a huge smile on her face.
‘Mum said you’re here to help us find Aunty Shirley.’
Doris smiled at the young girl. ‘We’ll try, Megan, we’ll try. Is Mum in?’
Megan held open the door. ‘Go straight through. She’s drinking lots of tea.’
‘Good. Best thing to do.’
‘That’s what Mum says. Dad says whiskey is best.’
They walked through into the kitchen to find Rosie and Dan sitting at the table. Rosie jumped up. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you’d arrived.’
Doris laughed. ‘It’s okay, Megan’s been looking after us.’
‘I’ve been watching out for the car,’ Megan said. ‘I went to meet them.’
Dan was on his feet, and he stretched out his hand. ‘Dan Steer.’
‘I’m Doris Lester, and this is my friend Wendy Lucas.’
‘Can I offer you a drink?’ Rosie asked.
‘Water for me, thanks,’ Doris responded. ‘Wendy?’
‘Me too.’
They sat around the table while Megan got water from the fridge, and Doris took out her notebook.
‘I need to know exactly what’s been happening since we were here last Wednesday afternoon.’
Once the timeline was completed, Doris sat back with a sigh. ‘Cherchez l’homme,’ she said. ‘Cherchez l’homme.’
‘What?’
‘Find the man, Mum,’ Megan helpfully explained.
‘I know what it means, Megs, I’m not sure of its relevance to everything we’ve told Mrs Lester.’
‘Okay, let’s stop with this Mrs Lester and Mrs Lucas malarkey,’ Doris said. ‘It’s Doris and Wendy from here on. For a start, this will be nothing to do with Connection, the company in which I’m a partner. There will be no bill at the end of it.’
‘The PC, Fiona, the one with us yesterday, was full of admiration for your agency. You have an excellent reputation. But we can pay…’
‘No, you don’t understand. I’m officially on holiday, so I won’t bring Connection into it unless I need to use a bit of clout with my business card. It opens doors,’ she said with a smile. ‘And if anyone mentions the fact that we’re in our seventies, I will respond.’
Megan moved to stand at Doris’s side. ‘Can I do my work experience with you?’
‘It’s a long way from here to Eyam every morning,’ Doris said. ‘But I’m more than happy to talk to you about how you can prepare for a future in investigations.’
‘What qualifications do you have?’
‘Megan!’ her mother interrupted. ‘Leave Doris alone.’
‘It’s fine,’ Doris laughed. ‘I have a wall full of qualifications to the highest level now, all relevant to the job I do, plus a degree in IT, and I am a black belt, fifth Dan in karate.’
‘And I can knit and crochet,’ Wendy added.
The tension eased around the table with the mention of Wendy’s skills, and everyone laughed.
‘Okay, I want honest answers to any questions I may ask, and I’m going to record from now on. It makes it easier.’ She took out the small recorder that lived in her bag and placed it on the table after switching it on.
‘Rosie, has Shirley ever mentioned being friends with another man? Either as friends or something a little stronger.’
‘No, definitely not. She never goes anywhere; Mark sees to that. She comes here most days, we sort out any orders we have for our Etsy customers, and she calls at the post office on her way home to post them out. Everything is done through this address. We have a room upstairs that we use like a mini-factory, and it’s kept locked as a precautionary measure in case Mark goes walkabout in here at any time. She’s paranoid about him finding out she has any money at all. I seriously don’t know where she would find the time to meet another man. She’s not the same Shirley I grew up with, the one who was there until she married Mark. Then he shackled her, and now she is so timid it’s awful to see. Mark must not find out about the Etsy shop. He would find some way of stopping her, and to be perfectly frank, she’s so much more creative than I am and is the leading partner in our business. It would fold without her.’
‘So tell me about the children.’
‘Seth and Adam. They’re quiet kids. When you consider they’re almost the same age as our little minx, and they’re cousins, you wouldn’t even think they lived on the same planet, never mind in the same family. I don’t think they like their dad, especially as he’s sent them to Springbrook. I haven’t seen them since Easter when they came home for the holidays, and I know Shirley misses them dreadfully. She’s lost weight, she looks miserable all the time – do you think they’re the reason she’s disappeared? Is she setting something up maybe, so she can take them out of school and have them living with her? Somewhere Mark can’t find her…’
‘Have you got a picture of the boys?’
Rosie picked up her phone, selected a photo and sent it to Doris. ‘They look more like Shirley than they do their dad.’
‘They look like their granddad,’ Doris said quietly.
Wendy took the phone from Doris and looked at the picture. ‘Hmph,’ she said.
Rosie looked concerned. ‘I’m sorry, this must be painful for you.’
Doris smiled. ‘Don’t worry about it. I certainly won’t. Can you give me a list of the hotels in the school locale that you checked to see if Shirley was there, please?’
Once again, Rosie delved into her phone and swiftly despatched a document to Doris. ‘The police have that information. The policewoman who was here said they would look all around the area for other smaller places, in case you get anybody saying the police have already been asking for her.’
‘The boys – they’re due to see their parents next Saturday, aren’t they?’
‘They are. I can’t see Mark going without Shirley, he’s not particularly paternal. I’m keeping everything crossed that Shirley will be home by then. It’s been strange without her for the last few days. And on top of that, of course, we’ve lost Melanie.’
‘You think the two things are connected?’
‘The police do. No, that’s not strictly true. They’ve not actually said that, it’s more a feeling I had. Their questions were about Shirley knowing Melanie, and were they friends. That sort of thing.’
‘Were they? Friends, I mean?’
‘Not close friends. In fact…’
‘Go on.’
Rosie looked uncomfortable. ‘I always thought Melanie was a bit more friendly with Mark than she was with Shirley. I’m not saying there’s anything in that – Mel was Patrick’s partner, after all – but…’
Doris waited.
‘I did a meal for everybody at East
er because the boys were home, and Mel sat between Patrick and Mark. She hardly even looked at Patrick, who talked most of the night to Megs, but she certainly chatted a lot with Mark. What’s even more telling is that Mark was happy all the time he was in her company. But honestly, that’s as much as I know. I can’t imagine he would cheat on Shirley with his own brother’s partner.’
14
It briefly occurred to Doris that she was becoming rather bitter – her thoughts were rapidly turning towards the theory that all men were born with the cheating gene already present. She could imagine Mark cheating with his brother’s wife.
But cheating is a two-way thing. Melanie Brookes could have said no to Mark, she could have said I’m with your brother, get away from me. Perhaps she hadn’t, maybe she had opted for the excitement of being with the brothers, rather than a brother. If this was the case, it was probably going to put a whole new slant on who had put an end to Melanie.
‘Where’s Mark?’ Wendy asked.
‘He’s with Patrick at the moment. He says Patrick’s falling apart, can’t understand why anyone would want to hurt Mel, let alone kill her. I’m going to tell him we’ve asked you for help, and it’s mainly because he doesn’t seem to be bothered. I wanted him to report Shirley’s disappearance right at the start, because it’s so unlike her.’
‘Okay,’ Doris said. ‘Tell me about Shirley. I know she’s a devoted mother, doesn’t like her children being at Springbrook and doesn’t seem to be particularly happily married. Would she agree with those statements?’
Rosie nodded. ‘She would. She has something to say about Mark every day, and it’s rarely complimentary. Her dislike of him grew when the boys left. She’s a quiet person now, it’s as if he squeezes the life out of her. He doesn’t hit her, or at least she doesn’t say he does, but he… controls her. He talked her into giving up work when the boys were born, and has found reasons ever since for her not taking on any part-time work. He needs her to be at the other end of a phone all the time, to have meals ready when he gets home, to make sure he always has an ironed shirt.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘It’s a good job he doesn’t live here. Ironing isn’t my favourite chore.’
‘Nor mine,’ Doris agreed with a smile. ‘You’re absolutely certain she doesn’t have a friend on the periphery somewhere? Male or female.’
There was quiet for a moment while Rosie dug deep into her mind. ‘I don’t think so. I can’t even remember anyone in the past. I suppose her closest friend was Melanie, purely because she was Patrick’s partner, but they didn’t socialise, they merely chatted whenever their paths crossed as a result of a Mark and Patrick get-together. I was her sister, her friend, and after Mum died, her mother. I’ve helped her get some self-respect back with our Etsy shop, and she loves the crafting we do together. She deals with the technical side, she’s so much better than me at all that, and she has really good ideas for things we can do. But that’s her life. I can’t think of anywhere she would go to escape that life.’
Doris drew a line under her notes, knowing if there was anything she’d missed it would be on the recorder. ‘Leave it with me. I’m going home to do some digging. Did Shirley keep a diary?’
‘She did, but everything she put in it was mundane stuff – things like shopping reminders, days she came here to work on crafting – all simply written in case Mark saw it.’
‘She’s so secretive, isn’t she?’ Wendy observed. ‘It must be hard work, having to live that kind of life.’
‘It wasn’t like that for her at first. Before they got married, I mean. We all thought Mark was lovely, her friends were somewhat envious because to look at him he’s definitely a catch. But I think he thought marrying her meant she became his mother figure. She was expected to do everything. It came as a bit of a shock, but she loved him so she became what he wanted, instead of what she wanted to be.’
‘She had friends?’ Doris looked at Rosie.
‘Years ago, she did. She worked in an office with lots of other girls around her age, and she loved it. She’d been promoted to section supervisor when she found out she was pregnant. He’d been a bit of a control freak prior to that, but as soon as that first scan told them it was twins, he shut her down. It was the excuse he needed to have a little slave to follow him around and make sure he never had to lift a finger for the rest of his life. It’s why he’s so gutted she’s taken off and left him.’
‘What did she take with her?’
Rosie frowned. ‘Take with her?’
‘Clothes? Did she take everything, or a small amount, to indicate she’s going to return.’
‘Oh my God, I’ve no idea. Mark doesn’t encourage me to pop around, and I can’t remember the last time I was there. I do know she took her car, because he said he was pissed off at having to take a taxi to go and get his car back on Thursday morning, after that environmental talk he did. If Shirley’s car had been there he would have used that, and left her with the problem of having to get her car back from the venue. She has a little Ka. It’s her freedom, the only bit she has really. She calls her Katherine. It’s dark blue. I can’t remember the registration number, but I’ve got a picture of her in front of it, from the day she bought it.’
Rosie dug into her picture file and exclaimed in triumph when she found the required one. She sent it to Doris, who checked she could see the registration clearly, then copied it into her notes, speaking it aloud for the recorder at the same time.
‘Have the police searched the house?’
‘I believe that was the next move when the news came through about Melanie. They took Mark straight over to be with Patrick.’
‘Do you have a key to Mark’s place?’
‘I do. Another secret. Shirley gave me one – just in case, she said.’
‘I can only give you this as a suggestion, not an instruction, but if it was my sister who had gone missing, I’d be texting my brother-in-law to find out exactly where he was, and if he wasn’t at home and not looking like returning home in the next couple of hours, I might have a look around the bedroom he shares with his wife.’ Doris gave an exaggerated wink.
‘Mrs Doris Lester! You’re a wicked woman! I’ll text him now,’ Rosie said, returning the wink.
‘I thought you might. And if I was giving further advice out, I’d do it with these gloves on.’ She delved into her handbag and produced some bright blue latex gloves. ‘If you haven’t been there for a while, the police might wonder how your fingerprints have been lifted.’
‘Do you always carry these around with you?’ Rosie was clearly intrigued.
‘It’s not normal when I’m on holiday, but the holiday has been moved to July or August, so I carry them now.’
‘Wow.’ Megan had been quiet for some time, but picked up the gloves. ‘These are brilliant. Mum, when you’ve finished casing the joint at Uncle Mark’s house, can I have the gloves, please?’
Doris took out a second pair. ‘Have your own, but don’t go with your mum. Stay here with your dad. Casing the joint?’
Rosie laughed and ruffled her daughter’s hair. ‘She loves black and white movies. She’s picked up all sorts of odd phrases as a result.’
‘Okay, I’m going home to start to find Shirley.’ Doris slipped her notepad and the recorder back into her bag, and stood. ‘There may be other questions, but I will ring unless we really have to come back out here. It depends what I can find. I think that little car is a priority, because where that is, so is Shirley. She can disguise herself, but she can’t disguise the car. I’ll ring you soon, Rosie, to give you an update, but it may be tomorrow. When we get home today it’ll be time to go to the pub.’
Dan’s head lifted. ‘That sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in years.’
‘We’ve booked a table for our evening meal.’ Doris laughed. ‘Mind you, we might manage a glass of wine or two, we are on holiday after all.’
Megan stood and walked with Doris and Wendy to the front door. ‘I’ll go to the car with
you.’
‘We’re fine.’ Doris smiled. ‘Honestly.’
‘You’re seventy, you said so. I have to help you.’
‘God bless you, child,’ Wendy said. ‘Do we look ancient? But come to the car with us if it’ll make you feel better.’
The twelve-year-old nodded solemnly. ‘It will. And Mum always goes to the car with guests so it’s obviously what should happen.’
‘Come on then.’ The trio headed down the path, and Rosie reached the doorway, waving a key at them. ‘Found it!’ she called, ‘and he’s staying at Patrick’s for the night.’
Doris held up a thumb, and the pair settled into their seats. She wound down the window to say goodbye to Megan.
‘Here’s looking at yer, kid,’ Megan said, and blew a kiss through the open window.
Doris drove away, the older women giggling hysterically.
Rosie let herself into the house quietly, keyed in the code for the alarm, saying a little prayer that Mark hadn’t changed it, and exhaled heavily when the beeping stopped.
She ran quickly up the stairs and into the master bedroom. The bed was unmade, the sheets half on the bed and half on the floor. It was clearly beneath him to do something as mundane as tidying the room.
Rosie crossed to Shirley’s side, and smiled to herself as she recognised the old copy of Jane Eyre on the little table. It had been their mother’s book, and they had taken it in turns one memorable afternoon to divide up the books between them. Alternate choices had been the order of the day, and somehow they had both ended up with a copy of Jane Eyre.
‘Where are you, Shirl?’ Rosie whispered, and she glanced around the room. Nothing seemed out of place; blood splatter on the wall simply wasn’t there. She opened the drawer in the small table, and it contained some paracetamol, a packet of Tampax and Shirley’s everyday diary. Seeing it sent a shiver through Rosie. Shirley would have taken it. It contained phone numbers, addresses, contacts, things she might need. She wouldn’t have gone anywhere without dropping it into her bag.