Alex Barclay - Blood Runs Cold

‘I was about to tell you how well respected and loved by her colleagues your sister was. No one had a bad word to say about Jean. She clearly loved you, your wife and, like I said to Amber, your children. Their photos are all over — you must have seen her refrigerator. So, she had a tattoo on her back you didn’t know about,’ said Ren. ‘That’s just ink and needles.’ She paused. ‘And maybe a few tequilas …’

Patrick smiled.

‘Nothing at this stage matters,’ said Ren, ‘except the fact that you were brother and sister, and you loved each other.’

I hope I’m helping .

He reached out. Ren wasn’t sure what he wanted. He squeezed her left hand. She could see he was struggling to speak, this sweet, gentle man.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

It was eleven p.m. when Ren reached the Brockton Filly. As she walked across the packed parking lot, she could feel the music throbbing. As she came closer to the building, she saw the sign on the door: Open Mic night . And when she opened the door to the bar, she realized that the music was trying to kill the singer.

She pushed through the rowdy crowd — a younger, crazier bunch than the quiet old alcoholics that were sucking the lifeblood out of her the last time. Billy Waites had turned the Filly around. It had customers. Ren took a slot at the bar where no one seemed to be serving. She leaned her elbow on it and turned away, drawn to the little lady on the bar stool with the giant guitar and the intuitive amp. She was winding down.

‘Thank God for that.’ Billy’s voice. Instant impact. Ren turned slowly. But he wasn’t talking to her. He was leaning into a blonde two people away from her. Oh . Ren faltered. Her heart was letting her down; weighing too much, beating too fast. She had no drink to knock back, nothing to grip to stop her hand from shaking. Billy looked up. They locked eyes. He drew quickly back from the blonde and came toward her.

‘Hi.’ There was hurt and happiness in his eyes.

‘Hi,’ said Ren.

‘You look good with a tan.’ He smiled.

‘You too.’ She smiled back.

They stared at each other. People were shouting orders at Billy, but he didn’t move. People were trying to push Ren away from the bar, but she didn’t move.

‘So …’ said Billy.

‘This is weird.’

‘Yup.’

She looked around the bar. ‘I didn’t think it would be so — ’

Billy laughed. ‘You thought the place would have been shut down.’

Ren laughed. ‘I didn’t mean it like that, asshole. I just thought it would be … how it was before.’

He smiled sadly. ‘Wouldn’t that be great?’

‘Get me a beer, mister,’ she said. ‘And we’ll talk when you’re finished?’

Billy checked his watch. ‘One hour to go. Can you handle it?’ He put two fingers in his ears.

Ren laughed. ‘Yes, I can.’

She got wired, chatted to random students, bought them Jagershots, knocked some back with them, danced with a nerd. Every now and then, Billy passed by, caught her eye and smiled.

It was two hours and four rounds of nervous beer-drinking before everyone left and Billy closed up the bar. He sat down on a stool opposite her.

‘Is it like that every night?’ said Ren.

‘Thursday to Sunday — crazy. Or if there’s any big thing on, a festival or whatever.’

‘That’s great,’ said Ren.

‘New ownership,’ said Billy.

‘Really?’ said Ren. ‘What’s the boss like?’

‘Hot.’

‘What?’ said Ren.

Billy laughed. ‘I’m the new owner.’

Ren laughed out loud. ‘No way. Congratulations. Obviously bought with drug money.’

‘Obviously.’ He smiled.

She gestured to Jo’s corner. ‘So no more blowjobs for beer?’

‘It’s full of students,’ said Billy. ‘They give them out for free.’

Ren laughed. ‘So …’ She tried to avoid his eyes.

‘I thought I might see you some time soon,’ said Billy.

‘You heard about Jean.’

He nodded. ‘So is that good or bad for you?’

‘Well, here I am, back on the case. So to answer your question — I have no idea.’

He smiled. ‘I still can’t believe you were ever off the case. Why would they do that?’

Ren paused. ‘Well … I wasn’t getting very far, was I?’

‘That’s not true.’

‘I guess I’m getting a second shot,’ said Ren.

‘You weren’t alone in not solving the case,’ said Billy. ‘You can’t take the blame for everything.’

‘Yes, I can.’

‘You do, but you shouldn’t.’

‘Thanks,’ said Ren. She lowered her head on to the table. ‘I want it all to go away.’

‘Yes, but you only want it to go away by solving it …’

Ren looked up and smiled at him. ‘You’re right. So … go through it all with me — everything from that night.’

‘Did anything show up on the body?’ said Billy. ‘Any new evidence?’

‘Probably not … the autopsy will tell us more,’ said Ren. ‘Billy, I need you to give me more. I need you to think more.’

‘I’m not a retard.’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was sounding that way. Can you go through again who was here that night?’

‘I gave you that list. Look at it.’

‘Now who’s calling who a retard?’

‘Don’t take your work shit out on me. I’ve done what I can for you. Including being the invisible fucking man.’

They sat in silence.

‘I cannot think of any more people to add to that list, OK?’ said Billy. ‘They were strangers to me. It’s that kind of bar. Of the people you’ve met? Me, Salem and Jo da Ho.’

‘This is driving me nuts,’ said Ren. ‘Because I know, for certain, that this was Jean Transom’s last stop. I just know it.’ She shook her head. ‘And more than one person is responsible for what happened to her, because they took her car and we don’t know where it is. We’ll probably never find it. I can’t see how all that could have been done otherwise.’

And right now I’m discussing all this with a confidential informant .

Ren’s phone rang and Denis Lasco’s name flashed up on the screen.

‘Hello, Ren? I found something when I was going through Jean Transom’s pockets. It was in a pocket I missed first time around. You know these ski jackets — they have zips everywhere. It’s a photo of a woman. And I know who the woman is, because I was on the case. I’ll drop this by your office.’

‘Who is the woman?’

‘Her name was Ruth Sleight. She was thirty-nine years old, lived in Frisco.’

‘Ruth,’ said Ren. ‘I have a mystery RUTH folder belonging to Jean. In fact, I was just about to add a case to it. What happened to Ruth Sleight?’

‘Suicide. June last year. I mean, you can see by the photo that she wasn’t in great shape. She’d been an alcoholic half her life.’

‘There’s too much alcohol everywhere,’ said Ren.

‘All the better to party with.’

‘OK — anything else on this Ruth Sleight?’

‘Well, I think I have the reason for her alcoholism. Do you remember the Mayer-Sleight case in the late seventies?’

‘Vaguely,’ said Ren.

The Mayer-Sleight ‘abduction’ had been the lead news story on every network in 1979, the headline in every newspaper. Two eleven-year-old girls from Frisco, Jennifer Mayer and Ruth Sleight, disappeared on their way home from dance class, the first day their mothers had allowed them to walk home alone. Both families refused to speak to journalists. The girls showed up … three weeks later. The families released a statement saying, We would like to thank America for the thoughts and prayers that kept us hopeful during such a fearful time. Our beautiful girls have returned to us unharmed and we thank God for this blessing .