For a moment Zoe Fisher was taken by surprise. Evans saw her mouth open and then close like a fish suddenly pulled from the water. She licked her lips nervously. Eventually she said, ‘Of course not.’
‘You gave it to Maggie then?’
‘Yeah, I did. When she came in for her trim the other day.’
‘What did she say about it?’ Bowman seemed to have an unlimited arsenal of questions, each primed and ready to fire.
Fisher’s hands came away from her hips. She dragged he
r fingers through her hair. Evans began to feel sorry for her.
Fisher pulled out one of the chairs tucked beneath the small dining table and sat down on it. She looked up at Bowman’s shadowy face. ‘What Maggie said was, “Thanks.” Like any normal person would. Then she put it in her bag. And that was it.’
‘So you had rung her and warned her that another letter had arrived?’
‘No, I hadn’t.’ Fisher’s defiance was still there, if struggling. ‘She was booked in for a haircut. Why would I have rung her? It was just a letter.’
Bowman put the envelopes back in his jacket pocket and buttoned up his coat.
‘And you weren’t just a tiny bit curious about who these mysterious letters were from? And why they were being sent care of your hairdressing parlour? I would have been if I were you.’
‘Maybe, but I didn’t ask.’
‘Are you and Maggie friends, then?’
‘No,’ she replied.
Bowman snorted. It was something he often did. Evans called it his pig impression. ‘Thank you,’ Bowman said. ‘Sorry to have bothered you. We’ll be off now.’
Evans followed Bowman down the three flights of stairs. When they were outside he summoned up the courage to ask him how he knew there had been another more recent letter.
‘It was a guess, Evans,’ he said, easing himself into his car. Evans opened the passenger door and got in.
Bowman started the almost noiseless engine. ‘Evans, I want you to get a check done on Zoe Fisher’s phone for the last year. I want to know if she’s had any contact with Maggie Rogers apart from the booking of her haircuts.’
‘First thing tomorrow, sir.’
‘No. Now, Evans. I want the results by first thing tomorrow. And remember you are reporting to me on this, not to DI Reid. Now off you go.’
Evans paused uncertainly.
‘Out!’ Bowman gestured with his left hand. ‘I’ve got to get home or the wife will kill me. You can make your own way back to your car, can’t you? The buses are still running.’
Evans levered himself out of the car and shut the door carefully behind him. He would like to have slammed it, but his instinct for self-preservation was too strong. At least he knew the area. It would take him over five minutes to walk to the bus stop. Then he’d have to go right into the centre before catching another bus out to Abingdon. It would take at least an hour.
‘Of course, sir. I’ll catch a bus, sir,’ he said to no one as Bowman drove smoothly off up the road. He waved sardonically into the darkness and watched as Bowman’s rear lights grew smaller and smaller. Bowman turned left, which was exactly the route Evans was going to have to walk to get to the bus stop.
‘Bastard!’ he shouted into the empty street.
* * *
When DI Reid heard the knock on his office door, he groaned audibly. It was late and he wanted to get home and he knew without even looking up that the dot-dot-dash-dash belonged to Ashcroft. He hadn’t forgotten Ashcroft’s weaselly performance in front of Bowman and he certainly hadn’t forgiven it either. One day he would teach him a lesson.
‘Sorry, boss.’ Ashcroft’s face appeared warily from behind the door.
Reid glared at him. His sergeant was rocking nervously from foot to foot.
‘I just thought you’d want to know about this straight away.’