Simon Beckett - Fine Lines

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.”