Lynda La Plante: Blood Line

‘I’m sorry?’

Paul sighed and hit the steering wheel with the flat of his hand.

‘Don’t tell me you don’t know.’

‘Know what?’

‘You must be the only person at the station who doesn’t know, not that I am in any way embarrassed – to the contrary.’

‘You’re gay?’

‘Ah, the penny finally dropped, has it, ma’am? Yes, I am.’

She giggled. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Well, now you do. Did you think that Alan was playing for the opposite team?’

Again she giggled. ‘No, I didn’t actually, but what do you think?’

‘I reckon he was straight. Well, Dan said he was and I don’t get the feedback that he was a closet. It was the painting that sort of gave me the hint about Matthews. Alan was bloody good-looking, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, I suppose he was.’

Paul glanced at her. ‘You have a very infectious giggle, ma’am.’

‘Really?’

‘In fact, it’s the first time I’ve heard it. Wondered what it takes to make you laugh.’

Anna felt herself plunge into the void. It happened so quickly, she couldn’t speak; her heart hammered and it took a huge amount of control to straighten out and push the overriding panic down inside her.

‘After the next interview we should grab a bite to eat,’ she said.

‘Okay by me.’

Paul didn’t even notice as he was concentrating on driving, but Anna’s face was drained of colour and her hands were so tightly clenched her knuckles were white.

The next interview was with Julian Vickers, the manager of a small deli in Kilburn. The shop was stacked with all makes of cheeses and hams and imported Italian pasta, with a counter for takeaway sandwiches. Julian was a rather overweight young man with thinning hair and lovely blue eyes, wearing a white apron, and he was at least six foot three. He was openly friendly, and Anna and Paul watched as he sliced some ham for an elderly lady. When she left Anna flipped the door sign to closed and apologised to Julian, saying she needed to talk to him in private but would not take up too much of his valuable time.

‘I have had calls from Al’s father, but I haven’t been in contact with Alan himself for five or six months. This is all terrible, and my wife and I were trying to remember everything that we discussed the last time he came over. I’ve known Al since we were at school, and in fact I make up a hamper every Christmas for his dad because he likes his cheese and a good port.’

As he talked, Julian moved boxes of groceries off two chairs so they could sit down. He said that his friendship with Alan had been very important. His own family had suggested he was out of his mind to start a deli when he didn’t know the first thing about it, but Alan had lent him money to open up, and Julian had proved to be successful even if he did have to work around the clock.

‘So at this last meeting with Alan . . .?’

‘Right. Yes. He would sometimes come over on a Saturday night because I have Sundays off, and we’d try out all the new goods. The last time, we had some herrings marinated in ginger. God, they were bloody awful, made the eyes water.’ He laughed and then his face fell.

‘I know he was engaged, but he never brought his fiancée round, and often my wife would leave us alone to chat. We both worked out together – I may not look as if I do now, but we used to. We even ran marathons, which I couldn’t do now. I run to post a letter and I’m knackered.’

‘Did he give any indication the last time you met that anything was wrong?’

‘No. We mostly talked about the Mercedes he was doing up as I thought I had someone who would be interested. In fact, he didn’t stay all that long. He doesn’t drink like me, just the odd glass. He’s always been a fitness freak, but he said . . .’ Julian closed his eyes, genuinely upset.

‘I tell you something a bit odd. He had asked before then if I’d be his best man, but the last time I saw him, he never brought it up so I didn’t either. You never know, nowadays women come and they go, unlike my wife. I’ve been hoping she’d go for years.’

He laughed and then said that it was a joke.

‘We’ve been married since I left college. We’re expecting twins, which was something else me and Alan spoke about. Well, it’s going to be a big financial situation for me and as always he said that if I needed anything, like a few thousand, he was good for it.’

Julian took out a handkerchief; his stunning blue eyes were full of tears, all jokes forgotten.

‘I hope to God nothing bad has happened to him. He was one of the best people I know. Nothing was too much trouble for him, and as I said, he helped me start up . . .’

‘Do you think he could or would just take off and disappear?’ Anna asked. ‘That maybe being a Good Samaritan became too much for him?’

Paul glanced at Anna. It was on the nail and Julian was already showing signs of distress.

‘No. I personally could not think of any reason why he would do that. I know he worried about his parents, but he was earning good money. Although . . .’

Anna and Paul waited. Julian blew his nose and then tucked his handkerchief into his pocket.

‘In all the years I have known Alan he was like a Samaritan – I’ll give you that – but he was a genuine caring person. You could look at this big blonde handsome guy and think he’d be a real arsehole, but he wasn’t. In fact, he was shy, never self-opinionated. I often wondered if there was another side to him, but I never saw it.’

‘Or was it just he never showed it to you?’

‘You find anyone with a bad word against him and it’d surprise me. I think he was the product of a very loving home. Any time you wanted, his mother would welcome you in, cook up a storm, and their house was always full of kids whose parents were not at home or working. His dad was terrific, arranging outings, packing us into his old Volvo, sometimes taking us off to Brighton funfair. He seemed to have an inside knowledge of the best fairs – Clapham Common, Wimbledon, Putney . . .’

Anna stood up and thanked Julian, but he wasn’t prepared to let them leave his deli without making up a packed lunch of thick-wedged sandwiches and potato salad with sauerkraut, refusing to allow them to pay.

Anna and Paul parked at the back of Julian’s deli in a small side street so they could tuck in and enjoy their lunch without being seen by the public. Paul ate hungrily, but Anna just picked at hers, her appetite gone. They had been given two bottles of a chilled ginger and elderflower drink as well, which was delicious. For a while they ate in silence.

‘What are you thinking?’ Paul eventually asked.

‘I wish you wouldn’t keep asking me that.’

‘Okay – do you want to know what I am thinking?’

‘If I said no, would it stop you?’

Paul took a big bite of the sandwich. He had mayonnaise dripping down his chin and he used one of the paper napkins to wipe it off.

‘Well, go on.’ She folded her own half-eaten sandwich back into its wrapping.

‘I’ll finish that off if you’re through with it?’

She passed it to him.

‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ Paul said, staring straight ahead as Anna drank from her bottle before screwing the cap back on.

‘We don’t know that. What we need to do is find someone who saw the other side of Alan Rawlins, because so far I think it’s all too good to be true. No one is that perfect. He will have secrets – maybe dark ones. So in answer to your question, we need to find out what made this Samaritan disappear because, as I said last time, I don’t believe he is dead.’

The last interview of the day was at Tina’s salon in Hounslow High Street. She had agreed to see them again on the condition they came late in the afternoon just before closing as she had appointments booked.