Fine Lines

Chapter Thirteen

“You’re fucking joking!”

That was Zeppo’s reaction when I told him about the detective. It was not a task I looked forward to. I had not imagined he would be pleased. I was right.

“You’ve hired a private detective? Are you fucking mad, or what?”

“I didn’t really have any choice.”

“You didn’t have any choice? Jesus Christ, why don’t you just tell her what happened?”

“If you’ll calm down a moment I’ll explain.”

“Go on, then! Explain!”

I already had my argument prepared. “Anna was going to hire someone anyway. Since I couldn’t persuade her not to, I thought the best thing to do was offer to pay for it myself. At least this way I’ll know as soon as Anna does if he finds anything. Besides which, I hardly think anyone is going to suspect me if I’m paying for the investigation.”

I heard a thump as Zeppo hit something. I was glad I had chosen to tell him over the telephone. “This isn’t fucking Agatha Christie, Donald! We fucking killed someone, and now you’re trying to tell me you’re playing at psy-fucking-chology with a detective? Jesus Christ!”

“If we’re talking about taking risks, I hardly think you should be talking like that over the telephone.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! You’ve hired someone to find Marty, and you’re worrying in case someone’s tapping the fucking phone line? Oh, that’s a real risk, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think hiring a detective constitutes any real danger—”

“Well, I fucking do! Why didn’t you talk her out of it?”

“If you’d listen, I’ve already told you I tried! Would you rather I objected so much it began to look as if I had a reason?”

“You didn’t have to go with her, though, did you?”

“I’ve already explained—”

“Don’t give me that shit! All right, so you thought it’d be a good idea to pay for a detective. You could still have let her go by herself! You didn’t have to hold her hand while she saw him, did you? Now, instead of just being Anna’s boss, you’ve connected yourself to Marty! Whether you like it or not, you’ve made yourself part of that dickhead’s investigation! How can you be so fucking stupid?”

To be honest, that had not actually occurred to me. But I was not going to admit it to Zeppo. “I still think you’re overreacting. I can’t see how he can possibly begin to suspect either of us.”

“Why take the fucking chance, for Christ’s sake?”

“Apart from anything else, it puts Anna under an obligation.”

“An obligation’? How much of a fucking obligation do you think she’ll be under if she finds out you had her boyfriend clubbed to death?”

“It won’t come to that.”

“It better fucking not. Because if I go down, you go down! And if it’s because of your fucking stupidity, you better hope the-police get to you before I do, you know what I’m saying?”

“I think I get the general gist, yes.”

“You’d better. And in future, if you get any more bright ideas, I want to know about them first. Okay?”

I felt it was time to assert myself. “May I remind you who is paying whom?”

“I don’t give a shit. I don’t want you dropping any more surprises like this on me. And I want to know whatever the detective finds out, as soon as he tells you. Clear?”

I decided to let it go. I did not want to risk an argument at this stage. “Perfectly,” I said, icily.

“Good. Ring me when you hear anything.” He hung up.

Infuriated, I banged down the receiver. But then, as I thought about what Zeppo had said, I felt a vague unease. I had miscalculated. I thought that going to see the detective with Anna was the best course of action. Now I was no longer so sure. And also, at the back of my mind, was the nagging fear that if I had overlooked one thing, there could be others. It did not make for pleasant thinking.

Anna was almost cheerful the next morning. Not just because now she felt something was being done to find Marty, but because she had also found something out for herself.

“Marty didn’t take the plane tickets!”

For a moment, I was confused. “Plane tickets?”

“To America! They’re still at the flat! What with Marty going, and everything, I’d forgotten all about them. But then yesterday, after I said I could use the money I’d saved for America to pay for the detective, I suddenly thought about them, and checked to see if they were still there. And they were!”

I could not see why this should excite her. “Ah. Good.”

My reaction must have been disappointing. She felt compelled to explain. “Don’t you see what that means? He must be planning to come back! If he was going to leave for good, he would have taken at least one of them with him, wouldn’t he?”

I answered without thinking. “Not necessarily. If he doesn’t want anyone to know where he is, he’ll hardly use a plane ticket you know about. And he might not want to go back to America now, anyway.”

Anna turned on me. “Thanks, Donald. That’s really poured cold water on that idea, hasn’t it?”

Astonished, I stared at her. But she was immediately contrite. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s... it’s quite all right.”

“No, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” She seemed suddenly deflated. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I was building my hopes up over nothing.”

“No, no, I shouldn’t have tried to dampen your spirits.” Seeing how dispirited she had become, I genuinely regretted it.

“Yes, you should. I was getting all excited over nothing.” She sat down, her animation gone. “I suppose I was still on a high after hiring the detective. You know, knowing that somebody was finally going to do something at last. Then when I found the tickets, it was like Marty hadn’t completely gone. I talked myself into thinking it was a good sign.” She gave me a sad smile. “But you’re right. They don’t mean anything one way or another, do they? I was just being stupid.”

“You shouldn’t say that. You’ve got to have hope.”

“Yes, but kidding myself isn’t going to do any good. And neither is snapping at you. You were only saying what I already knew. I didn’t even mention anything about the tickets to Marty’s father last night, because I could guess what he’d say and didn’t want to hear it.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I’m really sorry, Donald. I was being a cow. You didn’t deserve that.”

I patted her hand. “Nothing to be sorry for. Don’t even think about it.” Then, casually, I asked, “I take it Marty’s father called you again?”

She shook her head. “I phoned him. I’d thought he’d be pleased to know I was doing something.”

“And was he?”

“If he was, he didn’t show it. He certainly wasn’t any nicer.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, perhaps I’m being a bit harsh on him. It is his son who’s gone missing, and as far as he’s concerned I might be just some floozy who’s led him on, or something.”

The suggestion was distasteful. “Hardly.”

“No, but he doesn’t know that, does he? He’s bound to be a bit suspicious. And he’d had no more luck with the American embassy than I did. I don’t think that helped.”

I thought she was being overly generous. “There’s still no cause to take it out on you.”

“I suppose not, but I can understand him being worried.” She smiled. “I’ve just bitten your head off, and you’ve done nothing, have you?”

I remembered what Zeppo had said, and felt a sudden chill at the thought of Anna finding out what had actually happened.

“Don’t even think about that,” I told her, not wanting to myself.

I waited almost as anxiously as she did for the first news from the detective. No matter how much I told myself there was nothing to worry about, there was still that doubt that refused to go. My stomach began to suffer.

The first results, however, were encouraging. “A neighbour saw him leaving your home address with a suitcase around tea-time on either the eighth or ninth of this month,” Simpson told Anna. He had called at the gallery, and with his briefcase and tweed jacket, he looked like an insurance collector. The smell of aftershave and peppermint had come with him.

“A neighbour?” Anna frowned. “Who? I asked everyone I know.”

He glanced at the thin cardboard folder open on his lap. “A Mrs. Jenner. An old lady. She lives almost directly opposite at number thirty-two.” Anna looked surprised. “I know an old lady lives opposite us, but I’ve never spoken to her. Was she sure it was Marty?”

“She seemed to be. She also said she’d seen you leaving a day or two earlier, also with a suitcase.”

“She doesn’t miss much, does she?”

Simpson smiled. “Every neighbourhood’s got someone like that. It can be useful.”

My stomach had coiled at the mention of a witness. “You said she saw him on either the eighth or the ninth. Didn’t she know which?”

“No, she couldn’t be any more exact than that. She was quite upset about it. Her TV had broken down, otherwise she said she’d have remembered the day by what was on it.”

“I went away on the seventh,” said Anna. “And I spoke to Marty that night and the next, so it must have been the ninth. The Wednesday.”

Simpson looked at his file. “It could have been the night before, after you’d spoken to him. But since he went into university the next day I think we can assume it wasn’t. You say you telephoned him just after six, and the line was engaged, so it looks as though he spoke to someone, and then immediately afterwards left with a packed suitcase.” He looked at Anna. “Any more ideas on who he might have been speaking to?”

She shook her head helplessly. “No. None.”

“You can’t think of anyone who could have made him leave the house like that?”

“I’ve asked everyone I know. All our friends, the people he knows at university. No one spoke to him.”

“All right. Keep on trying to think about it, anyway.” He briefly looked at the file again. “I think it’s safe to say that, wherever he was going, he took either a bus or the tube. If he’d have been planning to go by taxi, he would have ordered it from home.” I offered up a silent prayer of thanks that I had told Marty not to take one. “I’ve been trying to contact the bus crews who went through your area at around that time. We’ve not spoken to all of them yet, but so far no one can remember picking up anyone who fits Marty’s description. I’ve also spoken with the ticket office at the tube station nearest to you, but no one there can remember anything either.” He gave an apologetic little shrug. “The problem is that it’s getting on for two weeks ago now. A lot of faces have passed through since then.”

“So it’s a dead end,” Anna said, flatly.

“Well, I can’t pretend he’s left a blazing trail, but it’s still early days. And we’ve only just started looking. Airports and hospitals we leave to the police. They’ll automatically be contacted if he turns up there. But there are plenty of other places he could be, so we’ll concentrate on those. I’ve already been in touch with the Salvation Army, and they’re going to see what they can do.”

Both Anna and I looked blank. “The Salvation Army? How can they help?” Anna asked.

“They’re very good, actually,” Simpson said. “Most people don’t realise it, but they’ve got a missing-persons bureau, and an intelligence network that’s pretty much as good as the police’s. In fact, the police sometimes use it themselves. It can save a lot of time and footwork. And there’s always the chance that we’ll get lucky and find that he’s staying in one of their hostels.”

Anna looked dubious. “I can’t really see that.”

“Perhaps not, but it doesn’t hurt to try. We’ve also been in contact with the YMCA, to see if he’s stayed with them. No luck so far, but we’ll contact them every few days, just in case.” He glanced down at the file again, then looked at Anna.

“There is one more thing that’s worth mentioning. He’s got to live on something. You said he’d taken his own chequebook with him. You don’t have a joint account in either a bank or building society he can have access to, do you?”

Anna shook her head. “No. We keep our money separately.”

Simpson looked disappointed. “Ah, well. If you had, you could have got the bank to run a check on any withdrawals. Found out what cheques he’s written lately, and where they’ve been cashed.”

“Can’t we do that anyway?”

“I wish we could. It would make things a lot easier, but no bank will just release that sort of information unless it’s a jointly held account.”

“Not even if I explain what’s happened?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Even the police haven’t the authority for that. Not in this sort of situation.”

“What do you mean, “this sort of situation”?” I asked.

He spoke cautiously. “Well, I mean that at present there are no grounds for concern for Marty’s actual wellbeing. I realise that you’re very concerned about him yourself, obviously,” he added hurriedly, before Anna could say anything. “But there are no... let’s say “suspicious circumstances” about him going. If there were it would be a different matter. If there was anything to indicate that, heaven forbid, something might have happened to him, then the bank would co-operate with the police. But not as things stand at present.”

He smiled. “I know that doesn’t exactly help us find him, but in a way it’s a good sign that we can’t have access to his account. If you see what I mean.”

I did. And although I was not sure how Anna felt, I certainly found that reassuring.

Anna invited me to her flat that weekend. Or, rather, she accepted when I offered to call around. I was still a little wary of forcing my company on her, but now I felt justified in seeing her out of working hours. And I was sure she seemed genuinely pleased.

I had expected to have her to myself, but I was disappointed. When I went into the lounge there was another girl on the sofa.

“You’ve not met Debbie, have you?” Anna asked.

“No, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”

“This is Donald, my boss,” Anna said to the other girl. I was stung by the way she qualified the introduction. But the injury was soothed a moment later.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” the girl said, and I felt almost childish pleasure at the implicit compliment. Her voice sounded familiar, but I did not immediately place it. Then I put her name to it and remembered. Debbie. The girl Anna had been talking to when I overheard them on the telephone. I felt a bristle of hostility towards her.

“I was just making a drink,” Anna said. “Would you like tea or coffee?”

“Whatever you’re making.”

“Well, I’m having tea, and Debbie’s having coffee, so you can take your pick. I’ve got some Orange Pekoe, if you’d like it?”

“That would be lovely.” Again, I felt a surge of pleasure. That was my favourite tea. I was sure Anna had bought it in specially.

There was a moment’s silence after Anna left me alone with the girl. She had a round, rather doughy face, unappealingly draped with straggly hair.

“I’d just like to say I think you’ve been great to Anna,” she said, out of the blue.

I was taken aback. “I’ve not really done very much.”

“You’re paying for the detective, for a start. I call that a big help. But not just that, you’ve given her support, and that’s what she needs right now. I really appreciate it.”

Her patronising attitude irritated me. “I’ve only done what I can.” I tried not to sound too stiff.

“Well, I think it’s great. And I know Anna’s grateful.”

“There’s no need for her to be.”

She smiled. “I’m sorry. I’m embarrassing you. I just wanted to tell you while Anna was out of the way. She’s taking it well, isn’t she? I mean, it can’t be easy.”

“No, I’m sure it isn’t.”

“If it was me, I’d be going out of my mind. Not knowing what’s happened to him. I couldn’t stand it.”

“No.”

“I mean. I wouldn’t say so to Anna, but to be honest, it doesn’t look very good, does it? If it was my boyfriend I’d be worried sick. For him to just walk out like that in the first place, and then for her not to hear anything. Well...” She looked at me, meaningfully. “I really wouldn’t like to say what’s happened. I mean, I really wouldn’t like to say.”

I had the feeling that, like it or not, she would anyway. She did. “Either he’s got cold feet, or found somebody else, or something’s happened to him,” she went on. “I mean, if he was going to come back, or at least get in touch, he would have by now, wouldn’t he? So he’s either not going to, or can’t. Either way, it doesn’t look very good for Anna, does it?”

“I suppose not.”

“I mean. I know he could have suddenly had a breakdown, or got amnesia, or something, but it’s not very likely, is it?” I inclined my head, noncommittally It did not satisfy her. “What do you think’s happened to him?”

“I really couldn’t say. I don’t know him very well.”

“Well, none of us do, really. I mean, I know Anna’s been going out with him for nearly a year, but once she’d started seeing him they kept themselves pretty much to themselves. I must admit, I’d got my doubts about this whole America thing from the word go. It seemed a bit soon to me. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I really liked Marty, from what I saw of him, but how well can you get to know anyone in a few months? Mind you, having said that, he never struck me as the type who would just walk out like this.”

She shook her head. “You just don’t know what to think, do you? One minute I’m convinced he’s run off, the next I start thinking that something horrible must have happened to him.”

“The police don’t seem to think so.”

She snorted. “The police? They wouldn’t, would they? Unless it’s something blindingly obvious, they don’t want to know. They’d rather sit on their backsides than do anything constructive.” She stopped and grinned, apologetically. “Sorry. Bit of a hobby horse of mine.”

Thankfully, Anna came back with the drinks at that point. “Have you two got me all sorted out, then?” she asked. I was horrified at the thought of complicity with her awful friend, but the other girl only laughed.

“Of course. That’s what friends are for, isn’t it, Donald?”

I was saved from having to respond by the doorbell. “I’m popular today,” said Anna, lightly. But I had seen her jump when it rang, and she was tense as she got up and went out. I wondered how long it would be before she was able to answer either the door or the telephone without flinching.

I heard the front door open, and then brief, murmured voices. Anna came back into the room. Her face was white. A man was behind her.

“This is Marty’s father,” she said.