Simon Kernick - The Business of Dying

'And before that? When did she last go missing before that?'

'I can't remember. A few months ago. Look, Dennis, no one here thinks anything untoward's happened.'

'So why were you going to phone and tell me?'

'Because you asked me to. Personally, I think Anne's doing her usual thing, which is going out, taking drugs, and doing exactly what she fancies, regardless of what anyone tells her, because that's what she's like. But I felt I ought to tell you because you were worried and I suppose I'd never forgive myself if Anne did end up like Miriam Fox, dead in some back alley with her throat cut, and I hadn't bothered reporting it. Although I still think the chances of that happening are fairly remote.'

'OK, OK, I get your point. I don't like it, though.' And I didn't. Anne's disappearance had sown more doubts in my mind. Maybe somehow, defying all the odds, Mark Wells wasn't our man. Not that it should have mattered; I had far bigger fish to fry now. I sighed. 'Look, do me a favour and inform the police. Tell them what's happened.'

'Dennis, you are the police.'

'Not any more I'm not.'

'What are you talking about?'

'I resigned. Yesterday.' Not quite true, but it might as well have been.

'Are you playing games, Dennis? Because if you are, I'm not interested.'

'No, I'm not. Honestly. I handed my notice in. It's been a long time coming.'

'But what are you going to do? I mean, are you trained for anything else?'

Killing people, I thought.

'Not really, but I've got a bit of cash put aside. I thought I'd maybe head abroad for a while. Do some travelling. I've always wanted to do something like that.'

'Well… Good luck with it. I hope it works out for you. When are you hoping to go?'

'As soon as I can. Probably before the end of the week.'

'You know, I think I'm jealous.'

'You could always come with me.'

She laughed. 'I don't think so. Perhaps one day I'll come out and visit you.'

'You should do. What's keeping you here?'

'I can't believe I'm actually being encouraged to be more of a rebel by a policeman. I don't know, Dennis. At the moment I'm happy the way things are.'

'Are you? Really?'

There was a short silence on the other end of the line before she spoke again. 'It just wouldn't work. I don't know you well enough. I think we should leave it at that.'

'OK, but it'd be good to see you one last time before I go.' As soon as I said this, I knew that this was a risk I should not be taking, but I didn't seem able to help myself.

'Yes,' she said, 'it would, but I don't know when we're going to get the chance.'

'Look, I remember you saying the other night that you liked poetry. They're doing readings by some contemporary poets tonight at a place called the Gallan Club, not far from me. Why don't we meet there for a drink? It's a nice spot.'

Carla ummed and aahed for a few minutes, but finally agreed to come over for an hour or so. I began to tell her where the club was, but it turned out she knew the place vaguely anyway. 'And don't forget to tell the police about Anne,' I added. 'Report it formally. You never know what might have happened and it's better to be safe than sorry.' Again she told me that she thought there was nothing to worry about, but I insisted and she ended up agreeing to do it.

After I'd hung up, I made another cup of coffee and lit cigarette number seven. Anne Taylor was not my concern. Even if I'd stayed a copper and remained connected to the Miriam Fox murder case, she would still not have been my concern. Mark Wells was almost certainly Miriam's murderer. But I couldn't help wondering what had happened to Molly Hagger and where Anne had got to. I'd certainly have expected Molly to have surfaced by now. Her best friend had been killed, and it was difficult to believe that she wouldn't have at least shown her face to find out what was going on, or contacted the authorities if she believed Wells was responsible. And now Anne had disappeared only a few weeks later. There might, as Carla clearly thought, be a perfectly logical explanation for it, but for me it was all too coincidental, particularly on top of the attempted abduction the previous week. I couldn't help but feel that I was missing something, something neither I nor any of my erstwhile colleagues were aware of, but try as I might I couldn't put my finger on what it was. And, with everything else, it felt like it wasn't worth trying.

But sometimes, you know, it's difficult to let go. So I picked up my home phone, this time not caring who was listening in, and made a call to Malik's mobile.

It rang ten times before he answered, and when he heard my voice I couldn't tell whether he was happy that it was me or not. I wondered briefly if he knew that his superiors were on to me.

He asked me how I was feeling, having presumably heard that I'd phoned in sick, and I told him I was OK, just a little under the weather.

'I haven't been sleeping too well. I think I need a holiday.'

'Why don't you take a couple of weeks? You're bound to be due it.'

'I am. Maybe I will.'

'Anyway, what can I do for you, Dennis?'

Dennis. I was never going to get used to that from him. 'How did the raids go this morning? Have we laid any charges yet?'

'We pulled in everyone we were meant to, but no charges yet. You know what it's like with these kids. It's like treading on egg-shells. You're not even allowed to raise your voice with them in case they get upset.'

'I'm sure one or more of them did the old lady.'

'I think everyone's sure of that. It's proving it that's the problem, not that I have to tell you that.'

'How is she?'

'The old lady? Touch and go. What I think personally is that one way or another she's going to die as a result of what happened. It might take a few weeks – it might even take a few months – but either way, those kids were responsible.'

I agreed with him. 'Look, the reason I'm calling is the Miriam Fox case.'

'Oh yeah?' He spoke the words without much enthusiasm. I told him what Carla had told me about Anne's disappearance while he listened at the other end. When I'd finished, he asked me what I was doing talking to Carla. 'I thought you weren't going to bother contacting her.'

'She contacted me. I told her to if anyone else went missing. And this one seems like one coincidence too many. Two young girls, both no more than fourteen, disappear within a month of each other from the same children's home. At the same time, a girl both of them have had some association with, and who was best friends with one of them, is murdered. All three were prostitutes working the same area of King's Cross. I know people disappear, and I know we've got Mark Wells in custody, and that the evidence against him's good, but something about this just isn't right.'

'Like you said, people disappear…'

'Yeah, I know. I know. People disappear all the time, especially teenage crackheads, but with this frequency? And we know one met a violent end, and one of the others was assaulted during an attempted abduction just a matter of days ago, something I was witness to. And now we've got this thing where the evidence against the suspect in the murder – the shirt – is linked to one of the missing girls.'

'I wouldn't read too much into that, Dennis. Giving the shirt away to someone who's not around to deny it is just an easy excuse for Wells to use.'

'Has anyone been trying to find her?'

'Who? Molly Hagger? Not that I'm aware of. But if you're that concerned, you should be talking to Knox, not me. Why don't you see what he has to say about it?'

'Because I know what he'll say, Asif. That we've got a man in custody, that there's no evidence to warrant extending the inquiry further…'

'And he'd have a point, wouldn't he? You're right, it all seems a bit coincidental, but what can we do about it? On Hagger and the other girl, there's no evidence that anything untoward's happened, and, as you say, they're not the sort of girls whose disappearance is going to cause anyone any surprises.'