‘Absolutely crystal, Guv.’
The call came when Wilson was in the loo, and before Bella had got round to taking Wilson his cup of tea. It was either luck or fate, but she didn’t give a stuff which. She moved back into the kitchen, as she answered it. ‘Hello, David. It’s Mother. Where are you?’
‘I’m scared.’
‘Of course you are.’ She spoke in lowered, reassuring tones.
‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘I’ll look after you. Tell me where you are. I’ll get a car. Tell me where you are, and I’ll rescue you.’
‘They think I killed Dad. What will they do to me if they catch me?’
‘I won’t let them catch you, David. I promise. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll come.’
She would have said more, but she could hear the sound of Wilson exiting the loo. ‘Keep calm,’ she whispered, ‘and wait for me.’
‘David, why won’t you ring me?’ It was the fourth time Maureen had rung him since leaving her house, and for the fourth time he didn’t answer.
Again she left a message. Not a new message, just the same message in slightly different words, but each, as Lawson was fully aware, increasing in intensity and desperation. She wasn’t at all sure this was going to help, but for once the self-confidence that the young DC normally displayed had collapsed under the pressure of the situation, and she had said nothing to dissuade her.
‘For God’s sake, David, you must ring me. I will protect you, but you must tell us where you are.’ Maureen paused. Laws
on opened her mouth to say something reassuring, but Maureen hadn’t finished. ‘David, you must give yourself up. Otherwise, how can I help you?’
Roy Hillerby parked his car in Knights Road, locked it, and walked reluctantly towards the bus stop. The wind was blowing sharply from the east and he pulled his coat more closely around him, but it made no difference. He looked up high, at the flats, as if in expectation that she would be there leaning out of the window, waving him a thank you. But, of course, she wasn’t. She wouldn’t. She didn’t need to. All she had to do was whistle, and like an obedient dog he’d come running, panting and grateful just to be noticed by her. What a bloody fool he was! And why on earth had he given her his spare set of keys, because now it was as if she had a divine right to the use of his car.
He stopped, sent her a text as he had promised he would, and then looked around. A number 5 bus was coming up Blackbird Leys Road. He waved his arm to get the driver’s attention, and broke into a jog, because the last thing he wanted was to end up waiting at the bus stop in this godforsaken weather.
‘Are you OK, Constable?’
Detective Constable Wilson, who had just emerged from a five-minute stint in the loo, flushed crimson. ‘Sure! Absolutely.’ He spoke quickly and awkwardly. ‘Just a call of nature. A bit of an urgent one, I’m afraid.’
‘Never mind.’ She smiled. ‘I’ll take a turn now, if you don’t mind, and after that I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.’
‘Thanks.’ Wilson slumped down on the sofa. The copy of the Oxford Mail he had been reading was lying where he had left it, and his hand reached over to pick it up, but his eyes had other ideas. For they were fixed not on the newspaper, but on Bella Sinclair’s legs and arse as she stepped her way across the living room. Only when she and her kitten heels had disappeared fully into the loo did he pick the Mail up, with an audible sigh, and turn to see what was on TV later that evening.
Bella didn’t need the loo, at least not for the reason that people normally need a loo. Once inside, she bolted the door, and then unlocked the glass-fronted wall cabinet. It took her a minute or so to inspect the labels of several items until she had found what she was looking for: one reading ‘temazepam’. She opened the box. There were four small capsules inside. They weren’t hers, at least not originally. She’d ‘borrowed’ them, in case she needed a bit of night-time help, from Mrs Jeffrey’s stash. It was, as she saw it, one of the perks of the job, to pick up drugs here and there. You never knew when they’d come in handy. It was lucky Mrs Jeffrey had had such trouble swallowing in her final days. Liquid capsules were so much easier to administer. Especially in a nice cup of hot tea.
‘Hi, there!’ Holden put on her most cheerful voice, but Vickie Wright was having none of it. After Fox had rung the bell, there had been a rattle of a chain, and the door had opened only a few centimetres. A pale-skinned, black-eyed face had peered out unenthusiastically.
‘What do you want?’ a voice demanded.
‘Can we come in?’
‘Have you found David?’
‘Not yet.’
The door was pushed shut, there was another rattle of the chain, and then it swung half open. But Vickie Wright kept her hand on the catch, and her body in the doorway, challenging them to enter without her say so.
‘So why aren’t you out looking for him?’
It wasn’t an unreasonable question, and yet Holden was initially stumped to give a reasonable answer. Or any answer. Though given her limited experience of Vickie, and given that she was Maureen Wright’s daughter, Holden shouldn’t have been surprised by Vickie’s demeanour.
‘We have a team of people out there looking.’
‘Yeah, right. You have a team.’