Fine Lines

Chapter Twelve

Since Anna was unable to contact Marty’s parents, I had assumed it was safe to disregard them. From what I had heard, they had not been particularly close to their son, and so it seemed reasonable to suppose they would remain ignorant of his disappearance, at least for the foreseeable future.

However, some things are simply unpredictable. When Anna walked into the gallery, a week after Marty had disappeared, I could see at once that she was upset.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She made an attempt to sound normal. “Marty’s father phoned last night.”

“His father?” I searched for a suitable response. “Has he heard from him?”

“No. That’s why he called. It was Marty’s mother’s birthday two days ago, and he didn’t send a card or phone. His father was going to tell him off for forgetting.” Anna looked young and frightened. “It’s the first time he’s not been in touch on a birthday.”

I tried not to let my irritation at the news show. Things had been going so well. “Anna, people forget birthdays all the time. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“But Marty’s always thoughtful about anything like that. And his father said he’s never forgotten before.”

I could think of no way to convincingly defend Marty’s lapse of memory. “What did you tell him?”

She shrugged. “What could I tell him, except that Marty had disappeared about a week ago, and I hadn’t a clue where he was? He wanted to know why I hadn’t let him know straight away. I said I couldn’t because I hadn’t got his number, but I could tell he didn’t believe me.”

“He didn’t actually say that, surely?”

“No, but he let me know that’s what he thought. He asked why Marty had left, and when I said I’d no idea, he said. “Well, have you at least done anything to find him?” As if I’d just not bother!” She angrily brushed tears from her eyes with the heel of her palm.

“Come on. Sit down.” I took hold of her arm and led her to a chair. My fingers retained a tactile memory of the contact. I poured us both a coffee and sat down opposite her. “Did you tell him you’d been to the police?”

She nodded. “Yes, but when I told him what they were doing, he said, “So in actual fact, they’re doing nothing.” Then he wanted to know what else I’d done, and when it actually came to saying it, it sounded like nothing at all. He made me feel like a callous bitch.”

“You’re hardly that.”

“No, but he just... oh, you know, made me feel like I wasn’t even trying to find Marty. I could tell he thought I knew more than I was telling him. He obviously thought I must have done something to make him leave.”

I felt outraged for her. “That’s nonsense!”

“I don’t know, I’m starting to wonder.” Her voice was on the edge of breaking. She held her coffee cup in both hands, as though she were trying to warm herself from it. She looked very vulnerable.

“Well, you shouldn’t! Don’t let him upset you, he was probably just hitting out at you because you were there. Didn’t you say that Marty didn’t get on with him?” She nodded. “Well, then, there you are! Now you know why. If he jumps to conclusions like that, he’s obviously completely unreasonable!” I was prepared to dislike the man already.

“I know, you’re probably right,” Anna said, a little calmer. “But he still made me realise that I’m not doing anything. Marty’s missing, and I’m just sitting and waiting for him to come back. That’s not enough.”

“You’ve done everything you can. Did Marty’s father suggest what else you could have done, or offer to do anything himself? Or was he just content to criticise you?”

She sighed, tiredly. “He’s going to go to the American embassy, to see what they can do, so I said I’ll go to the embassy here as well.” She shook her head. “I should have thought of that myself.”

So, perhaps, should I. “Will they be able to help?”

“I don’t know. They might be able to put some pressure on the police to try a bit harder.” She did not sound too hopeful. “Something needs to. I called them last night to tell them what Marty’s father had said. I thought it might make them take it more seriously, but I might as well not have bothered.” Her mouth tightened at the memory. “I spoke to this...” — she struggled for a suitable description, — “this pig of a sergeant, who just said he’d make a note of it. So I asked what else they were going to do, and he said that Marty was already listed as a missing person, and they’d carry on keeping an eye out for him.” Her agitation was growing as she re-lived the conversation. She put her coffee down, angrily. A little slopped into the saucer. Anna did not notice.

“I told him that “keeping an eye out” wasn’t enough! I mean, Marty’s disappeared, for God’s sake! You’d think they’d at least make an attempt to find him! Especially now, when even his parents are getting worried! But he just got all stroppy, and said he was sorry my “young man” had left me, but they weren’t a detective agency, and can’t be expected to find everyone who decides to leave home.”

She paused, making an obvious attempt to calm down. “God, I was just so angry. I didn’t bother saying anything else. If I had I’d only have regretted it. What with him and Marty’s father, I just felt like... like screaming.” She drew in a long breath. “I just hope to God the embassy does something. I can’t stand sitting around like this much longer, not knowing anything. If I don’t do something soon I’m going to go mad!”

Reluctantly, I realised that Anna was no longer going to passively resign herself to Marty’s absence. There and then, I decided to change my tactics.

“AH right,” I said briskly. “Let’s try and think what you can do. You’ve already done everything you can as far as the police are concerned. Now what about the embassy? Have you spoken to them yet?”

“I phoned them last night, as well, but the person I need to speak to wasn’t there. They told me to call back this morning.” She looked at her watch. “He’s probably there by now.”

“Well, you give him a ring and make an appointment to see him. Insist that it’s urgent, and that it must be this morning. Don’t take no for an answer.” I doubted that she would have anyway. “I’ll take you over whenever you have to go.”

“There’s no need to do that. I’ll be all right.”

“I’m sure you will, but I can still give you moral support. And while we’re about it, what paper does Marty read?”

She looked puzzled. “The Guardian. Why?”

“We can put an advert in the personal columns. Appealing for him to get in touch.”

Anna was brightening visibly now she had something to do. “I don’t think he generally reads the personals, but it can’t hurt, can it?”

I smiled reassuringly. “Not at all.”

It was after lunch before Anna was able to see anyone at the American embassy. I overruled her protests about closing the gallery, but allowed her to persuade me that she would rather be seen alone. “I’ll look less like a hysterical girlfriend who needs looking after that way,” she said.

I waited for her in the reception area. The room was white walled and plain. A few paintings decorated it, but they were drab and uninspiring. I picked up one of the less dog-eared magazines from the low table and tried to find something interesting in it. The chain ran around the walls of the room, facing the centre. After a while another man, grey-haired and quite distinguished looking, came in and sat down, shoes squeaking on the parquet floor. We ignored each other. The room was very quiet, except for when one of us cleared our throat or turned a page. I had just found an article on Landseer when there was a loud, ripping noise from where he was sitting. I looked over. He was reading his own magazine as though he had heard nothing. Puzzled, I went back to my article, not believing it could have been what it sounded liked. A moment later, my nostrils twitched, and I realised with a shock that it was. The man had passed wind.

I stared at him with disgust as the filthy smell became more apparent. He glanced up at me once, in curiously and went back to his reading. I wondered if I should object, or simply get up and leave. But the man’s equanimity was daunting. I was still wondering what to do when I heard a door open further down the corridor.

A middle-aged man held it open as Anna came out. “Please get in touch if there are any further developments,” he said. Tight-lipped, she walked down the corridor without answering him. I stood up and went towards her, anxious to be away from the smell in case she thought I was responsible. I gave her a questioning look as she reached me.

“They’re very sorry, but they can’t interfere in “domestic” affairs,” she said. Her tone was bitingly caustic a side of her I had not previously seen. “He said that if the police have already listed him as missing, there’s nothing more they can do about it. Since his visa’s not expired, and everything indicates that he left of his own free will, apparently there’s no reason for the embassy to become involved. The fact that no one’s seen him, and that he’s just abandoned years of research work, doesn’t matter.” She walked so fast I had to hurry to keep up with her. “What does it take, for Christ’s sake?”

I hid my satisfaction. “I really don’t know what to suggest, Anna. But at least you’ve tried everything you can. We’ll just have to hope he responds to the advert in the Guardian.”

She said nothing. We went outside. It was cold and drizzling, already growing dark although it was still only mid-afternoon. Anna was quiet on the way back to the car. I respected her silence. We were driving away before she spoke again.

“I’ve been thinking about what that policeman said. About them not being a detective agency.” There was a determined look about her. “If they won’t try to find Marty, I’ll hire someone who will.”

This was unexpected. “You mean a private detective?”

She nodded. “I should have thought of it before.”

“Isn’t that... well...” I stumbled for words. “Do you think that would do any good?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t have many options, do I? It’s either hiring a detective or doing nothing. No one else is going to look for him.”

I tried to hide my reluctance behind practical objections. A car pulled out in front of me, and I only just managed to avoid bumping into it. I forced myself to concentrate on the road. I had already caused myself enough trouble through one accident. “How would you get hold of a private detective?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Yellow Pages, I suppose.”

“But how would you know if he was reputable or not? I’ve always had the impression that some of these people operate on the fringe of the law. You could just be paying someone to do nothing.”

“Well, I’ve got to try.”

“Have you any idea how much someone like that would charge?”

“No, but the money hardly matters, does it?”

There was a note of censure in her voice. I retreated from it. “Of course not! I was only meaning that you might not be able to afford it.”

“I can use the money I’ve saved for America.”

My objections had ant agonised her. I hurriedly tried to repair the damage. “There’s no need for that,” I said. “All I was trying to say was that I’d be only too pleased to pay for someone. If you’d let me.”

She quickly looked at me. “Oh, no, I couldn’t do that!”

“Why ever not?”

“Because I just couldn’t! You’ve done enough already!”

“My dear Anna, I’ve done nothing at all, except act as a chauffeur. I couldn’t possibly let you spend your hard-earned savings. There’s not much I can do to help, but at least let me do this.”

“No, really, Donald. Thank you, but there’s no need.”

I was warming to my theme, enjoying the opportunity to be generous. “I know there’s no need, but I would like to. Call it an indefinite loan, if you’d rather.”

“Thanks, but I couldn’t. Really.”

“If you don’t I’ll be offended.” Anna looked uncertain. “Please?”

She hesitated a moment longer, then gave in. “Okay. I... well. Thanks.”

Before she looked away, embarrassed, she smiled at me gratefully. And, I was sure, with genuine affection.

It was payment enough.

Anna was right about finding detective agencies in Yellow Pages. It had never occurred to me before that such things would be so easy to locate. There were comparatively few, but still more than I would have expected. She made her selection almost randomly, singling out the ones with bigger, more expensive advertisements in the hope that this reflected their professional expertise and success. Of these, any with melodramatic names were quickly discounted. Finally, we were left with a choice of five, after Anna dismissed one because he claimed ‘twenty years’ experience as a detective sergeant”.

“I already know what the police think,” she said. “If he was a policeman for that long, he’ll be no different.”

The first number Anna called had an answer machine: she hung up without speaking. The second was more hopeful. I sat opposite Anna in the office while she gave brief details of what she wanted: I noticed the hand not holding the telephone was trembling slightly. She said goodbye and put the receiver back in its cradle.

“I’ve an appointment with Mr. Simpson at four o’clock.”

“Is that who you spoke to?”

“No, just a secretary. She said he’s out until this afternoon.”

“Are you going to try the other numbers?”

She shook her head. “I think I’ll see how this turns out first.” She gave an awkward smile. “To be honest, it feels a bit weird. Asking complete strangers to look for Marty.”

I was instantly contrite. “You should have said something! I could have done it for you.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean that. I’d rather do it myself. But it just seems... well. You know.”

I nodded understandingly. “Would you like me to come with you?”

“It’s up to you. I don’t want you to think you have to. You’re doing enough as it is, and I’ve already taken you away from the gallery once today.”

I could see that she did not relish the idea of going alone. I felt warmed by the fact that she wanted me with her. “I’ve already told you not to worry about that. This is far more important.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t. I’d like very much to go with you.”

Anna suddenly smiled. “If Marty knew where I was going, he’d love it. He’s a big fan of the old detective stories.”

“I’ve read one or two of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s,” I said. “I quite enjoyed them.”

“Marty’s into the American hard-boiled school. Chandler, Hammett. James M. Cain. All those.”

All things considered, I thought that was quite apt.

The Simpson Investigation Agency bore little resemblance to any of its fictional counterparts. The first-floor office in Finchley had neither the opulence of Holmes’s residence, or the seedy masculinity of the American private eye’s headquarters. Blandly anonymous, it could have housed anything from a double-glazing company to an insurance brokers. A selection of framed certificates proclaimed the usual obscure qualifications. Sitting at the desk in front of them, Simpson himself looked as though he would be more at home with tax returns than problems of detection.

He shook both my and Anna’s hands and told us to sit down. He was a balding, innocuous-looking man lost somewhere in his forties. A smell of aftershave and peppermint clung to him. He offered us tea or coffee, and seemed disappointed when we declined.

“Now, Miss... Palmer?” He looked at Anna enquiringly. She nodded. “I believe you want to locate your boyfriend.”

“That’s right.”

“And what’s his name, please?”

“Marty Westerman.” Anna fretted with her hands as she told Simpson about Marty’s disappearance. He made notes on a printed sheet of paper, waiting until she had finished before asking any questions. He wrote her answers down diligently.

“Have you a photograph?”

Anna fetched a small snapshot out of her bag. I looked at it jealously, but it was only of Marty. He attached it to his notes with a paper clip.

“What do you think the chances of finding him are?” Anna asked. She looked and sounded nervous. Simpson pursed his lips.

“It’s difficult to say. From what you’ve told me, it looks as though he left deliberately. Why he went, and why he hasn’t been in touch, remains to be seen. It’s no good me even trying to guess. All I can do for now is try and trace his movements, find out who was the last person to see him, if anyone’s seen him since. I must warn you that I can’t promise anything, though. If anyone is really determined not to be found, then to be honest finding them’s pretty much a matter of luck.”

Anna was sitting on the edge of her seat, listening intently. “Do people normally come back in cases like this?”

Simpson gave an apologetic smile. “You can’t really make comparisons. If he just wanted some time to himself, then I’d say yes, there’s a good chance. But since we don’t know why he went in the first place, it’s best not to jump to any conclusions one way or another. I know it’s difficult for you, but I don’t want to raise your hopes too much at this stage. Let’s just see what we can find out, shall we?”

He stood up, offering his hand again. “You’ve given us enough to be going on with. If you’d like to have a word with the secretary in reception, she’ll give you details of the fees. I’ll get in touch with you in a few days to let you know what we’ve come up with.” He gave Anna a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll do our best.”

On the way out, I found myself hoping that their best would not be good enough. I could not see any way he might pose a serious threat. But at the same time, the irony of hiring someone to uncover the very thing I wanted to remain a secret was not lost on me.

I hoped I was not being too clever for my own good.