When Night Closes in (21 page)

Lowri saw him to the door and watched as he walked away. Thankfully, he had parked his car out of sight. Lowri looked along the road: there was no sign of Lainey's car. She went inside and closed and bolted the door but she was restless now, sleep was out of the question. She walked about the house trying to sort out her thoughts. Jon had disappeared and so had Sally. Was there a connection? Maybe, then again, maybe not.

‘The whole thing is one long nightmare, Lowri.' Her voice echoed loudly in the silence. She thought of Sally: she was silly and vain, she knew more than she ever let on about Jon Brandon but she had never meant anyone any harm, Lowri would stake her life on it.

She made herself a drink of hot milk and climbed into bed. She stared at the wall, reluctant to put out the light. She was overtired, she had been under stress and now the nightmares would come to haunt her, she just knew it. When she tried to sleep, the bed seemed full of lumps, the pillow made of concrete and she lay wide-eyed until the dawn light began to creep in through the window.

She slept then, but for only an hour. The nightmare did not materialize. Instead, her dreams were of Lainey, of him holding her, kissing her, making love to her. When she woke there were tears on her pillow. Lainey was a good man and she, well, she was nothing more to him than another foolish woman who had put her trust in the wrong man.

Lainey looked at the young man sitting before him in the interview room and decided he was extremely composed for someone who had just been told his girlfriend was missing. He was silent, wondering if Timothy Perkins was a violent man, a man on a short fuse. Was he capable of murder, even? Lainey knew that most murders were committed by someone close to the victim. In a case like this where there was a person missing in suspicious circumstances, every eventuality had to be covered.

Lainey tapped his pen on the desk. ‘So you didn't see Miss White that night, then?'

The young man shook his head. ‘No, I didn't. She had planned to go out with Lowri Richards, her friend from work.'

‘But you admit that you quarrelled earlier that evening.' The man could not deny it; he had been overheard by a nosy neighbour, shouting abuse at Sally and slamming the door of her house behind him as he left.

‘I asked her to come out with me but she said no. I was angry, I admit it. Haven't I said so half a dozen times?' Timothy's tone was patronizing; it was clear he saw Lainey as a stereotypical Mr Plod. ‘I have agreed that we quarrelled but I never laid a finger on her.'

‘So what were your movements yesterday? The police were alerted of a missing person at about 8.20: what were you doing then?'

‘I was swotting for my exams.' Timothy looked up at the ceiling. ‘Got a fag?

Lainey ignored that. ‘On your own?'

‘Of course on my own! One can hardly study with a girl hanging around the place.'

The man was a pain in the arse, bigoted, conceited in the extreme, but looking at his long fingers and rather effete hands, Lainey doubted Timothy had the energy or even the strength to abduct Sally.

‘All right, you can go.' Lainey rose to his feet. With deliberate slowness Timothy gathered his possessions, some books and a small plastic bottle containing spring water, and sauntered to the door.

‘I hope you solve the crime, Inspector,' he glanced back at Lainey, ‘but perhaps that's a distant hope, given the track record of our police.'

Lainey resisted the urge to swear. ‘Who mentioned any crime? Don't get too cocky, Mr Perkins, otherwise you might find yourself cooling your heels in a cell.'

‘In which case, you would be sued for wrongful arrest.' He smiled. ‘I am studying law as well as IT, didn't you know?'

‘Get out!'

Lainey watched as Timothy closed the door with a click that smacked of defiance. He would have liked to kick the young snob, jumped-up little bastard!

Lainey walked back from the interview room towards his office and thought about Lowri Richards. He seemed to be thinking about her a great deal these days. But then she was a suspect, though for what crime Lainey could not be sure. She also had beautiful eyes and splendid legs.

Lowri seemed to be the central cog of the complicated wheel that had been spinning ever since Brandon's disappearance. In his office Lainey drew a piece of paper towards him and picked up a pen. He stared down at his hands, his thoughts once again turning to Lowri. She was getting to him in a big way and it just would not do.

He doodled on a piece of paper, writing down the names of people who were associated with Brandon. Lowri, of course, Sarah the wife, Sally, just maybe, and, if Sally, Timothy Perkins as well. He stared at the paper. Some sort of pattern should be emerging but for the life of him, he could not see it.

It seemed that each and every one of them was good at playing games. Was Lowri really the innocent she appeared to be? Perhaps it was about time he began thinking with his brain instead of his groin.

Lainey lifted the phone and asked the switchboard to put him through to Watson Jones and Fry. When the line crackled into life, he spoke briskly, asking for Lowri Richards. The receptionist's voice bristled back at him.

‘Is this a personal call?'

‘No, it's a police matter,' he replied crisply. The line seemed to go dead but after a few minutes Lowri's voice reached out to touch him.

‘Mr Lainey?'

‘I have to speak to you again. Can you come down to the station?'

‘What, now?'

‘Yes. Right now.'

He replaced the receiver and wondered why, suddenly, the room seemed brighter, the sun through the windows sharper. He sat behind his desk and tried to concentrate on the questions he must ask Lowri but her face, the lift of her mouth, the soft fall of her hair, all of these things got in the way of logical thought. So he abandoned any pretence of work and indulged himself in a mental picture of Lowri Richards smiling up at him.

‘It's very inconvenient, you know.' The new receptionist was no friendlier than she had been on her first day. ‘I'm sorry your friend has gone missing but you are leaving me in a difficult situation.' Mrs Jenkins was bending over her computer, having stripped its innards. She seemed to know what she was doing as she slipped some chips into place. She glanced up and caught Lowri's look.

‘I'm upgrading the RAM,' she said, ‘Thirty-two megs just isn't enough. In any case, I like working with the guts of the thing, I think I should have been a technician.' She sighed. ‘Now I'll just have to leave all this to do your work – it really is too bad.'

‘Sorry about that.' Lowri was not sorry at all. She was happy to be getting out of the office, happy, if she was honest, that she would be seeing Lainey. She picked up her bag and shook her head. Her hair curled against her face, sleek and soft. It was rather a good feeling and Lowri wondered why she had ever thought that short hair suited her.

She was changing her looks and her life, determined to make a new start as soon as possible. Sally would have said ‘new man new hairstyle' but Sally was no longer here.

She paused beside the receptionist, who was sliding the tower casing back into place. ‘You are so good at operating the damn thing, it would be a pity if you confined yourself to just servicing the PC.' It was no idle compliment: the woman seemed to know more about the workings of a computer than anyone else Lowri knew. So why was she working in a solicitors' office, hidden away in a small place like Jersey Marine? Was she genuine?

‘Flattery won't get you anywhere.' Mrs Jenkins really was a miserable sod, Lowri thought.

‘I could hardly refuse to see the police, could I?' She knew she sounded defensive. The receptionist just shrugged, not even bothering to look up.

The telephone rang and Mrs Jenkins picked up the receiver at once. ‘Yes, of course, sir,' she said. She still did not look in Lowri's direction.

‘Mr Watson wants to see you.'

Lowri crossed the small reception area towards Mr Watson's office. She knocked on the door and he called to her to come in.

‘I'm sorry I have to go out,' she said but Mr Watson waved her to a chair.

‘No need to apologize, my dear. What's wrong now, why do the police want to see you again?'

She shook her head. ‘I don't know, perhaps they think I'm mixed up in Sally's disappearance. It is very odd, Sally leaving the house open to all and sundry.' She glanced up. ‘Don't you think it's odd?'

‘Perhaps.' He was the typical cautious solicitor. ‘What has this got to do with you?'

‘I went to pick her up, we were going out for the evening.' She bit her lip. ‘The house was deserted.'

‘Lowri.' Mr Watson leaned forward and his leather chair creaked. ‘If there's anything you want to tell me, if you are involved in anything – well – shady, I can help, you can trust me.'

‘I know I can trust you.' Lowri made an effort to smile. ‘You are one of the few people I do trust.' She sighed. ‘I don't know anything, I promise you.' She shook her head tiredly. ‘I think I'm beginning to get my life together and then something else goes wrong. Why am I always on the spot when it does?'

‘Look, perhaps you should have a short holiday, my dear,' Mr Watson said. ‘You could go home or if that doesn't appeal I've got a nice little cottage in the country.' He meant to be kind but Lowri shook her head.

‘The police wouldn't, like that one bit.' She regarded him steadily. ‘Don't you mind about all this? Not just me having to take time off to see the police but all of it, the whole sorry mess I seem to have got myself into?'

‘Lowri, my regard for you,' he paused, ‘and for your family, is unconditional, of course I don't mind. I only wish I could do more to help.'

Lowri resisted the urge to hug him. He was much more fatherly than her own father had ever been. He smiled and his blue eyes shone behind the glasses perched on the end of his nose.

‘Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?' He looked at her, his expression gentle. ‘To the police station, I mean.'

Lowri returned his smile. ‘How would that look, me turning up with a senior solicitor? Lainey would think I had something to hide.'

‘Lainey?'

‘Detective Inspector Lainey, you know, I told you that he's the one in charge of the case.'

‘And you trust him?'

‘Yes.'

‘Go along then, but take care what you say, these policemen can be very cunning when they want to be.'

Outside, the sun was shining but the air was chill. Lowri pulled her jacket closer around her body noticing that her clothes felt loose, she must have lost weight. She shivered; the wind was easterly, cold. She looked at the bare branches of the trees: autumn was well established.

Once in the Mazda, Lowri sighed and leaned back, enjoying a moment's peace before starting the engine. She seemed to be lurching from one mishap to another, she reflected. Her silly attempts at playing amateur detective down at the Swan had come to nothing, and now her suspicions about Sally seemed churlish, to say the least. Sally was a very attractive girl: why would she need to steal Lowri's boyfriend?

She turned the key in the ignition and as the engine burst into life she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes drawn towards a man standing in the shadow of the office doorway. Her stomach lurched; for a moment she thought she was looking at Jon Brandon. She turned to have a better view but the doorway was empty.

‘I'm imagining things now!' She spoke aloud as she pushed the gear lever into first. ‘I really must get a grip on myself.'

She drove carefully along the roadway and into the town, guiding the car through the one-way system with the ease of long practice. She had travelled this way to visit Jon so many times, so long ago, another lifetime it seemed. She swallowed hard. It did no good to dwell on the past, it was time she learned that.

She still felt cold so she turned on the heater. The air blew cold against her feet – the engine was not warm enough to generate a flow of heat. With a sigh, she turned it off again and concentrated on her driving.

Lainey looked grave as he led her into one of the interview rooms. There was no-one else present and Lainey, seating himself behind the desk, did not switch on the tape. That was reassuring; it meant the interview was informal.

He studied her face for a long moment. She smiled at him and he sat back in his seat as if she had slapped him.

‘Have I got a spot on my nose? You were staring.'

He sighed. ‘Lowri, what is going on here?'

She was puzzled – what did he mean? Could he be referring to them, to any feelings that might be growing between them? She was afraid to speak in case she said the wrong thing, so she just looked down at her hands.

‘Lowri, you are involved in this business up to your neck, aren't you? Just talk to me, then we might get somewhere.'

Her heart plummeted. It was police matters he had in mind, nothing more. She had been a fool even to imagine it could be anything else. She felt like bursting into tears. The door opened and a woman PC carried in a tray and placed it on the desk. The aroma of coffee rose enticingly from the squat mugs.

‘Thank you, Jen.' Lainey smiled at the girl and Lowri felt an absurd pang of jealousy. She watched the WPC walk away, noticing that she was very young and very slim with slender, black-clad legs. Lainey was surrounded by young intelligent girls; why would he even bother to look at her?

‘Sugar, two wasn't it?' Lainey did not wait for her nod of approval. He spooned the brown crystals generously into her cup and pushed it across the polished desk towards her.

‘Jim,' she said quietly, ‘if you don't believe in me I'm lost.' She gulped her coffee and it burnt her mouth.

‘How can I believe in you when all the evidence points to you being at least an accomplice in Brandon's illegal business matters? I'm asking you if you know anything – for heaven's sake tell me!'