Human Frailty, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (14 page)

"Sounds like you have a few issues Becky, do
you need someone to talk to".

Becky looked at Grant, unsure if he was
joking or serious.

They carried on walking.

"I
’
m feeling a little overdressed", Grant
commented as they walked up the street. A scattering of students,
heading towards the main university complex, were dressed in an
array of attire, but none of them as formal as the conspicuous
police officers now in their midst. Students throwing curious or
suspicious looks at them as they hurried by.

"It's funny", Becky said, "Students notice a
police officer in their midst straight away but never see anything
when their flats are being burgled by dodgy strangers".

"It's the way we dress", Grant replied.

A young student went by on a long skateboard
in baggy trousers barely covering his designer underwear, a dirty
zip up hooded top completing the outfit.

Becky looked at the retreating skateboarder,
then back at Grant, "I much prefer the way you dress", she said,
smiling.

Grant was still blushing when they walked up
to the front door.

No one answered the knock; Grant was about
to break the glass in the door when Becky came up with a key
retrieved from under the pot plant on the porch.

"People are so predictable", Becky said,
unlocking the door. A scruffy ginger ball of fur scrambled out the
door as soon it was open, making them both jump. Inside a stale
unaired smell greeted them, mixed with a distinctive odor of cat
urine.

"Smells like the house has not been opened
in a while", Grant said as he cautiously moved further inside.

Both he and Becky had discussed what they
might find in the flat, one option was Marion alive and well,
offering them a cup of tea and an explanation, another was that the
flat would be empty. However, there was another more sinister
option that he hoped would not eventuate. Moving slowly through the
house they checked the rooms one by one determining that the house
was indeed empty. No decaying body, half eaten by a starving ginger
cat. Apart from the smell, the house looked reasonably tidy. There
were no dishes in the kitchen sink, and the laundry was actually in
a basket and not strewn all over the floor. More importantly, the
house was empty.

Grant was in the lounge perusing the large
collection of CD 's. "Nice collection in here", he called to
Becky.

Pressing play on the CD player, a funky
tribal sound came filtering through the speakers. The raw earthy
voice of the lead singer made it clear who the band was.

"Hunters and collectors", Grant said to
himself. "Good taste in music".

"I think this album called Human Frailty",
Becky said as she came into the lounge holding a small black dairy
in her hand. "One of my favorite songs ever was released on this
one".

"I didn't know you were a connoisseur of
music, Becky".

"There's probably a lot you don't know about
me, Grant", Becky said with a crooked grin.

"I think I learnt a lot about you the other
night, like how you can't hold your alcohol. You looked worse than
Mike, and that was only about seven pm".

"Yeah, I left soon after that, Mum came and
got me. She was not impressed. I think I'm grounded for a few
weeks".

"I forgot you still live with your mum,
makes it hard for a potential suitor to get close".

"Fancy your chances do you
Grant?
”

"If the Mrs. ever kicks me out you're my
fall back girl, you know that".

Becky had known Grant for a long time,
sharing meals with him and his wife on occasion, so felt
comfortable with a bit of harmless flirting. It helped keep things
light and fun during the long hours spent at work. Besides, she
knew Grant was devoted to his wife, a trait that she unfortunately
found attractive in a man. Nevertheless, she knew relationships at
work were never a good idea, especially in a small squad.
Inevitably, one or both would have to leave the squad.

It does not stop a drunken slip, she thought
ruefully.

"Look what I found in the bedroom, it's her
diary", she said, holding it up for Grant to see. "I had a quick
look at it while you were in here messing with her music. There is
a lot in it, quite wordy if you ask me, and the handwritings
atrocious. She was not very conscientious about it either, some
days and even weeks at a time are missing entries. I cannot tell
what her last entry was. It will take us a while to go through but
the good news is that it has names and addresses in the back for
what looks like her friends".

"I wasn't messing about, I was searching",
Grant said in a mock hurt voice. Spying a sheath of papers laying
on the coffee table he quickly picked them up. "See, and I found
this", Grant mumbled as he flicked through them. It turned out to
be a script for a play of some sort; the lines that had been marked
with a highlighter pen appeared to be a female character with a lot
to say.

"Marion must be into amateur dramatics",
Grant was saying. "It looks like she landed a leading role in this
play". Before he could go any further, a knock on the door turned
both their heads.

"Marion is that you?
”
a female voice called
through to the lounge. A pretty face followed the voice with brown
hair peering around the door.

Startled at seeing two strangers, the girl
almost toppled into the lounge. "Who the hell are you", she
demanded.

"Police", Becky and Grant chimed
together.

Suspicious, she stood her ground, "Can you
show me some identification". A slight tremor in her hand the only
sign of nerves in her otherwise confident stance.

Grant had his badge out and showed it to
her, Becky unable to find hers.

"We're looking for Marion to as it
happens; could you tell us who you are?
”

The girl peered at Grant’s identification
uncertainly.

"I'm Beth and I live here.... Well actually,
I have not actually started living here, I was supposed to move in
last week but Marion has not been home. I have been collecting her
mail and throwing the junk away, it was starting to build up. When
I saw the door open this morning, I thought she had turned up at
last. See, I have been sleeping on a friends couch as I moved from
my last place. It was because of all the parties, the boys I was
sharing with did not stop drinking, every night. I was the one who
always ended up cleaning the place; god knows how they get on with
their degrees. I never saw them study once. I put up with it for
months before it became too much. When I met Marion at the
playhouse and she said she was looking for someone to share, I
...”

Grant put a hand gently on Beth's shoulder,
fearing she would not stop talking. He did not even think she had
taken a breath during her continuous spouting. "Okay Beth, take a
breath and come and sit down. Would it be alright to ask you some
questions"?

"What sort of questions? Do you think
something has happened to her?
”
she asked guardedly.

It was Becky who spoke this time, "We don't
know yet, her mother is worried, she has not been seen for a while,
it's a bit out of character for her apparently, but we haven't
spoken to her friends or boyfriend yet so she could just be with
them".

"I don't know any of her friends, Marion is
a bit older than me, and I’m only in my 1st year. I only know her
from the playhouse; she has the part of Jane in our play. She's
very good".

"Is this the play", Grant asked, holding up
the script he had in his hand.

"That looks like it," Beth said
peering closer, "Marion has the lead female role, Jonas picked her
out. She did not even have to audition for the part. At rehearsals
he is always raving about her performances, I must admit she is my
idol; I try to copy her style whenever I can
….
Jonas actually wrote the
script", she continued, “He says he wants to make a statement about
morality, courage and violence within the family".

"Who's Jonas?
”
asked Grant.

"Jonas Clifton, he is a professor at the
university, but runs the university playhouse theatre as well. He
directs most of the stuff we do, but this is the first script he
has written that I know of. He is a very clever man. He is also a
bit of a dish", she added looking at Becky with a shy smile.

What planet does this girl come from?
Still using words like dish, thought Becky, smiling back at her.
"Well Beth, you have been helpful, you might as well stay at the
house now its opened, you can give us a call if Marion turns up" ,
Becky said, handing her a card. "Where can we find the playhouse
theatre?
”

"We are meeting tonight for rehearsal; it's
at the old church on Dundas Street. Six o'clock".

Returning to the station Grant and Becky
found John on his own in the office eating his staple Subway
lunch.

"John it's only ten thirty in the morning,
bit early for lunch", Grant said to him as he threw the car keys on
the desk.

"Nothing else to do", John spluttered
through a mouthful of meatball sub, spitting salad onto his
trousers.

Becky put a hand to her mouth,
"That
’
s
just gross John, didn't your mother ever teach you any
manners".

Cleaning himself up and swallowing the
remaining piece, John asked if they had come up with anything.

Grant gave him the rundown, Marion was not
home, it looked like the house had been empty a while. Beth, the
new flat mate, had given them some information on a production that
Marion was playing the female lead. They had to do an enquiry at
the theatre at six.

"Apart from what Grant has just said there's
not much else to go on. But there was this", Becky added, throwing
John the diary, "It has the names and addresses in the back of her
friends, Mat is one of the names in there, it may be the boyfriend.
It might be useful to you".

"Cheers Becky, I was finding it hard to come
up with names to follow up on". John looked at the empty note pad
in front of him. "I had come up with exactly zilch", he added.

Unlikely that you would find out any useful
information at a fast food restaurant, thought Becky.

"I'll need that back John, I want to go over
the diary entries, see if anything is relevant".

"Rather you than me, you never know what
women write about in these things, it could be all Fifty Shades
inside that", John said, regarding the dairy in his hand with a
slight distaste.

"I'll keep that in mind", Becky said
coolly.

"What's this about fifty shades", Bridger
said as he and Jo entered the office.

"Just the unknown workings of Johns mind",
Becky mumbled.

"Maybe you could tell us about that fifty
shades of blonde, lawyer, then Mike", John said. "I bet she knows a
trick or two".

Bridger's mind flashed back to Friday night.
He could not remember even if he wanted to. He felt a little
compromised that Jane had been brought into the conversation, he
had not realised he had been that obvious. He just hoped everybody
else's memory was in the same state as his.

"She certainly is something John, but she
has nothing on my wife", he said, trying to divert the
conversation.

John put a finger down his throat and
gagged.

Bridger looked around. Becky was regarding
him in a questioning manner. He ignored her look.

"Where's everyone at with their
enquiries then?
”

John jumped in and told him about the diary
with its names secreted in the rear, neglecting to mention Becky
had recovered it from Marion's flat. "I haven't had a chance to
call any of them yet", he said, glancing at the empty Sub wrapper
on his desk.

Bridger followed his gaze, "I see, well you
better get onto it then, the sooner we eliminate them the sooner we
can move on".

Becky filled him in on what Beth had told
her and Grant.

"That's a good start you two, it seems that
some of my directions are getting through even if I'm not the most
experienced leader", he said, only half-joking. John avoided his
gaze and concentrated on the telephone receiver he was now
holding.

"Well Jo and I did not get a lot more from
Mrs. Watson, although with the help of Jo I was able to make an
apology of sorts for yesterday's unneeded visit to the mortuary.
Hopefully I have avoided my first complaint as a sergeant". Bridger
looked over at Jo, "I thought you had a good manner with her Jo, I
think she warmed to you".

Jo just looked at the ground and turned a
deep red.

You will have to get a thicker skin if you
want to keep going in this job, Bridger was thinking.

"Right let
’
s get on with some work, John looks
as if he needs a hand on the phones, all hands to the pumps
men".

After less than thirty minutes, they had
concluded that Marion was not with any of her friends. They had not
seen her in the days leading up to her disappearance, every one of
her friends mentioning the time she spent with Mat as the reason.
Her boyfriend turned out to be Mat Simpson and he was on his way in
to see them, claiming he had only just got back from a skiing
holiday with his friends and had not seen Marion since she had left
his flat over a week ago.

To give him credit, Bridger thought, he did
seem genuinely surprised and then actually worried that we would be
asking him about her whereabouts. Unfortunately, in cases like this
suspicion would easily fall on those closest to the victim.