Everything She Forgot (23 page)

Sheila was a heavyset child, with red shoulder-length hair. Angus got out of the car as soon as he realized who she was and lightly jogged along the pavement toward her, then followed her down the path to her front door.

The girl turned at the sound of his footfalls, just as her mother opened the door. Mrs. Tanner had the same build and coloring as her daughter and a similar hardened expression: deep-set eyes and pinched, thin lips.

“Hello,” said Angus, giving them both a wide smile. “How fortuitous to see you both together. My name's Angus, Angus Campbell, from the
Journal
. I wanted to talk to you about Molly Henderson.”

Sheila's mother put a hand on her daughter's shoulders to usher her inside.

“She's said her piece.” Sheila disappeared and her mother stood at the door, arms folded above her stomach and the corners of her mouth turned down. “It's only just this week she's back at school. All that business was far too upsetting: a classmate taken right before her eyes. She's hardly slept since.”

Mrs. Tanner was frowning down at Angus. He found her abhorrent. He hated excess flesh on a woman; when the female nature of indulgence and weakness was visible on the outside. He blinked slowly, remembering Eve taking the apple into her eager palm:
The woman saw how beautiful the tree was and how good its fruit would be to eat, and she thought how wonderful it would be to become wise. So she took some of the fruit and ate it
. Angus struggled to maintain his facade before Mrs. Tanner.

“I understand that this is a very distressing subject. I would be quick. Also, I am not going to write this up immediately. I am investigating the kidnapping itself and, as I think we all are, I am intent on tracking down Molly's abductor.”

“Isn't that what the police are for?”

Angus narrowed his eyes at Mrs. Tanner. “I just want to go over a few facts—make sure that nothing has been missed . . .”

“She's not speaking to any journalists and that's that,” said Mrs. Tanner, as she closed the door in his face.

D
isheartened, Angus returned to his office to consider his next move. There was both the post office and the café to try next, in an attempt to speak to Sandra Tait's and Pamela McGowan's parents, but Angus felt he had better plan his visit more carefully, for fear of frightening off all the families.

While he was working, the editor told him that another press conference had been scheduled at the Royal Hotel in an hour's time. Angus glanced at his watch and knew he would need to hurry in order to get a good seat.

He transposed his notes from the meeting with the Stirlings from shorthand into longhand, while the police radio crackled quietly on his desk. He had grown used to the radio's background noise both at work and in the car and often had to remind himself to maintain vigilant of its content. It was nearly five o'clock and Angus was just putting on his jacket to leave when his telephone rang.

“Angus Campbell,” he said, still standing, exasperated at the thought of someone calling with what he fully expected would be trivialities, when he was on his way to a press conference about an investigation into a missing girl.

It was a woman with a very quiet voice. He listened, frowning, as he put his pad, pencils, and Dictaphone into his briefcase. He snapped his briefcase shut and then barked: “Will you please speak up? I can barely hear a word you're saying.”

The woman cleared her throat and started again. “I'm very sorry to bother you. My name's May Driscoll. I'm not sure if you can help me at all. It was just on the off chance. You see . . . my
husband's missing and . . . well, I think you might know him. I found your business card in his work overalls.”

“Your husband? Who might he be?” Angus stood looking at the ceiling, frowning.

“He's Thomas Driscoll.”

“I don't recall anyone of that name. What does he do? In what capacity would we have met?”

“I don't know how you met. He's just a mechanic but I'm very worried—”

“Tam!” said Angus, sitting back down on his chair and leaning forward, elbows on the desk, so that he could hear more clearly.

“Yes, that's right. You remember him? Do you know where he is?”

“Eh . . . I had . . . no idea he was
missing
. He works at the McLaughlin garage in the East End?”

The woman began to sob and Angus waited for her to stop. He pulled his pad out of his briefcase again and flicked back to the day when he met Tam, scanning the minimal notes he had made on the meeting.

“You know him?”

“I . . . met him briefly on Saturday. He did some work on my car and I spoke to him about a case I'm working on . . . You say he is missing . . . When did you last see him?”

“Sunday. He never works on Sundays, but they called him in.”

“Well, you should contact the police.”

“I did, but . . .” she sniffed, “he's not a priority. It's only been forty-eight hours and I told them he doesn't enjoy work, and we've had . . . money worries and . . . we've been under a lot of strain. I get the impression that the police think he's just run off, but I
know
him, and I also know he's been worried sick
working in that place. They're not good people. They're the kind of people who could make a man . . . disappear.”

“Hold on one minute,” said Angus, putting his hand over the receiver. His colleagues were all leaving the office and he waved them good-bye.

He switched off his police scanner and gave May his full attention.

“Let me get this straight,” said Angus. “Are you . . . are you still there?”

“Yes,” said May. Angus could hear the tears in her throat.

“You have reported Tam's disappearance to the police but you believe that he has come to some harm . . . from the McLaughlins?”

“Do you know something? Oh dear God, I begged him not to take that job. We were desperate, but I told him not to take it. They're cruel, violent people and . . . Tam not even being a Catholic, it just . . .”

“Not a Catholic?” said Angus, purely out of interest. “What faith does he follow?”

“We're Protestant, Church of Scotland,” said May, very quickly, then quietly blew her nose.

“And you called me because?”

“Like I said, I found your card in Tam's pocket. Do you know anything . . . anything at all that might help?”

“I don't know anything,” said Angus, then, more cautiously, “but I do know what you mean when you say the McLaughlins are not good people.”

“They're
evil
,” said May, her voice becoming stronger and louder. “I begged him not to work there when they offered him a job, but he promised me it would be OK. He said he would just do his work and come home, not get involved, but I could
see the pressure of just being there was
making him ill
. He was
sick
with it . . . and I told that to the police and now I think they think he's just upped and left me, deserted me . . . but I know Tam and he wouldn't, he just wouldn't leave me,
ever
.”

Angus bit his lip as he considered.

“You're saying that you think the McLaughlins are involved in your husband's disappearance?”

“Oh, God, I hope not. It's my worst fear. It's what I've feared since he took the job . . . but they asked him to come in to work and now he's missing.”

“What reason would the McLaughlins have for taking Tam?”

“I don't know. I called because I thought you might know something, I don't . . . I just don't have any idea. And you don't know him? He just worked on your car? But why would he have your card?”

Angus felt an icy dread in his veins. It felt like yesterday morning when he had gone out to the shed, hoping for a newborn calf but finding Maisie's dead body.

“I . . . I was speaking to him about a story I'm working on.”

“For the
John O'Groat Journal
? But we've never been further north than Oban! What story?”

“I don't know if you've seen the news? A little girl from Thurso was abducted a week ago . . . Molly Henderson.”

“Molly? What does Tam have to do with that?”

May, who had been so inaudible at the beginning of the call, was now almost shouting, and Angus had to hold the earpiece an inch from his ear.

“I was talking to Tam, not about Molly but about George McLaughlin, who I understand has skipped town. I wondered if Tam knew where he was.”

“George
has
skipped town.”

“You know about it?”

“Tam tells me everything. We're very close. We have our troubles, but we share everything, we always have, which is why I know that he wouldn't have just left . . . abandoned me. He's a proud man, a quiet man, a strong man . . . but he wouldn't just disappear, no matter what pressure he was under. Tam and I . . .”

May broke down again; as she sobbed, Angus took the time to turn over a new leaf in his pad and draft some questions for her.

“I understand how very difficult this must be for you,” he said. “I see two issues here: You want to know what happened to your husband, and I might have been one of the last people to speak to him, outside of close family, before he disappeared. Second, I am trying to find George McLaughlin, and you might know where he is.”

The line went quiet, and then there was the muffled sound of May talking to a child. The office light was waning, and he turned on his desk lamp.

“I'm sorry, I can't talk now. May I ask . . . can you call me back?”

“Certainly,” said Angus, “give me your number.”

Angus made a note of the number, hung up, stretched over to Amanda's desk to steal one of her Turkish delights, then dialed May Driscoll.

May picked up right away. Her voice sounded different and there was an echo.

“I'm in the front bedroom, so we won't be disturbed. My daughter's home, you see. I don't want her to worry . . . Tam did tell me something about George.”

“What did he tell you?”

“It was payday, a Friday, and Tam came home drunker than
usual. He often went to the pub on payday but he's a quiet man; he can take or leave the drink, and so I was surprised. I remember I made him a cup of tea and he accidentally dropped it. It wasn't like him to get so drunk.

“In the morning, I spoke to him. He was full of worry, and he made me promise not to tell anyone, but he said that George McLaughlin had found some money, and was going to run away to Penzance in Cornwall with it. I asked him why Penzance and Tam said it was a family cottage down there. I know the area and I asked him where—it was between Sennen and Porthcurno. I asked him about this money and he said he didn't know whose it was, or where he'd found it, but that George was going to leave all the same and Tam wasn't sure he could keep on working at the garage once George was gone.”

“Why was that?” said Angus, making notes so fast that his hand was cramping.

“He told me George wasn't like the others. I'm not saying George McLaughlin was a saint, but Tam had a sense that George was keeping him safe.”

“He and George were friends then?”

“Only in the loosest terms. I guarded him against it, and Tam agreed. They worked together and went for the odd pint, but that was all. I gather George is quite a character.”

“Really?”

“I haven't met him, but Tam tells me he's quite the performer. A joker. Big tall man.”

Angus made a note:
performer
, not sure what to make of it.

“Did your husband say if George had mentioned anything about a girl?”

“No, only the money and Penzance. He swore me to secrecy. But I gather George always has a girl in tow.”

“No, I mean a child. Did he mention anything about a child?”

“Not that I recall.”

“But you told the police?”

“I told the police Tam was missing, but not about George's money and Penzance.”

“Why didn't you tell them about the money and George?”

“Is there a wee want about you?
Why do you think
? Anyone would think twice mentioning the McLaughlins to the police. That family has ears everywhere.”

Angus made another note on his pad:
McLaughlin—police?

May was quiet and so was Angus, and they listened to the measured sounds of each other's breathing for a minute or so. His mind was racing, the pen slippery in his hand.

“Oh my God,” said May, suddenly. “Do you think they've gone away together?”

“Who?”

“George and Tam.”

“I don't know,” said Angus, cautiously. “How much money did George find, do you know?”

“I've no idea.”

“And would your husband be tempted by wealth, if . . . the money found . . . was significant?”

There was quiet on the line for a moment, then May spoke. “No, definitely not. We need money. We're skint. We have been since Tam lost his job last year; it was the whole reason he took the McLaughlin job . . . but do I think he would leave us for money? Not for a second.”

Angus took down May Driscoll's address, and promised to keep in touch. He sat back in his chair, eyes and mouth wide open as he considered the information she had given him. He realized that there was no other option than for him to give
chase. He knew now where George McLaughlin was headed, and despite what the police seemed to think and what May had said, Angus knew in his gut that Molly was with him.

H
e made it in time for the press conference, but needn't have. The police offered nothing new, and when it was over Angus was glad to be in the back so he could slip out before the swell of other journalists. He went straight back to the farm, ate the dinner that Hazel had prepared for him, and then packed his suitcase.

“Where are you going?” Hazel managed, as he opened the stiff drawer under the wardrobes to pull out one of his winter sweaters. The anesthetizing scent of mothballs filled the room.