Линда Ла Плант - Cold Blood

Next morning, Page Investigations Agency was busy for the first time since they had opened. The phone in the office rang constantly, and Rosie was flushed bright pink and sweating as the calls came in.

Lorraine pointed to a large cork board on which she had pinned lists of names for interview, and those for her to cross reference and delete when necessary.

‘Okay, Rosie, you list every name, all the students I got to see in alphabetical order. We cross them out as we go along.’ Rosie nodded. There was a buzz in the office and it felt good.

Rooney had been assigned to make very discreet enquiries into the private investigation agencies hired by the Caleys, to see if there was an ex-colleague working anywhere he could palm money to, like Sharkey, and if they had any information worth digging into. He listed the companies on Lorraine’s big board.

‘My God, are they all on the same case?’ Rosie asked.

‘Yep. Caley’s sure been shelling out a lot of cash.’ Lorraine chewed her pencil and then stuck it in her hair.

‘Okay, this is how we work it, I do the college kids, you, Bill, start seeing what you can come up with about Caley, tap your old associates, whatever you need to do. Rosie, you’ll be the anchor-woman, you hold the fort here, we call in if we get anything, most important is that we get moving and come up with what we can as fast as possible... agreed?’

Rooney nodded as Rosie made a note of Lorraine’s mobile phone number and passed it to him. ‘We can all keep in constant touch,’ she beamed.

Lorraine flicked a look at Rooney and winked. ‘That’s what it’s all about, Rosie!’

Lorraine began the tedious and laborious interview sessions and hired a car, an ‘88 Buick which had seen better days, with a portable telephone to keep in touch with the office while driving herself from one meeting to another. Armed with two photographs of Anna Louise, she talked to fifteen students at UCLA. To be confronted with fresh young girls, eager to talk and full of youthful exuberance, made her feel tired and jaded beyond belief, but the mental picture she was gradually forming was basically the same one which had already emerged from the old police files. Making the kids feel relaxed with her was painstaking work and her fixed smile was wearing thin, but she persisted. By twelve in the afternoon she only had two names left on her list and went to the tennis courts to meet Angie Wellbeck, listed on Sharkey’s statements as a ‘best friend’. After Angie, she was meeting one of the kids listed as dating Anna Louise, Tom Heller.

Angie was wearing tennis shorts, a white T-shirt, Reeboks and little white socks with bobbles at the heel. She carried her tennis racquets in a very professional-looking white sling sports bag. She constantly plucked at it as she answered the routine questions Lorraine had asked all the students very politely — did she get on with Anna Louise? Did she know of anyone who did not like her? Anyone who might have a grudge against her? Who did she socialize with? Did she take drugs, drink too much? In essence, what was the missing girl like?

Angie sat on a bench, staring at her tennis shoes, and Lorraine could see faint freckles on her lightly tanned pale skin.

‘Well, she was real pretty, and always wore the most up-to-date clothes, you know, if something was in, AL always was the first to have it.’

‘AL?’ asked Lorraine, knowing full well that it was a nickname because it had been repeated to her so many times.

‘Yeah, we all called her AL. You know, Anna Louise is boring. I don’t mean she was boring, just her name.’

Angie said nothing untoward, or even gave the slightest hint that her friend wasn’t anything other than perfect. She just reiterated that although she was not academically inclined, she was great at sports and very competitive.

‘Like how competitive?’ Lorraine enquired.

‘Well, she liked to win, tennis anyway. We played a lot together, sometimes we played doubles. Her dad is a great player, he used to play with her I think, that’s why she was so good. Great backhand, very strong, although her serve wasn’t so hot, but she was a good player. Got enough practice in, I guess.’

‘Did she get angry if she lost?’

‘Sure.’

‘Aggressive?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Did she argue or get angry with anyone specific?’

‘No, she was kind of more angry at herself.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, if she missed a volley she’d shout and yell at herself, you know.’

‘Ah! So you never saw her fighting or shouting with anyone?’

‘No, but maybe you should ask some of the others. I mean, I played a lot with her but I wasn’t the only person she played with. Tilda Brown played with her mostly. She was closest to AL, but she hasn’t come back to school, not after AL disappeared, but I guess you know that.’

Lorraine nodded, underlining Tilda’s name in her note-book.

‘Did you all have the same coach?’

‘Geez, no way, AL was rich, you know, and her coach was ex-Olympic standard, a real professional. We’d all have liked to be coached by him,’ she giggled.

‘Did this create jealousy?’ Lorraine was even boring herself.

‘Yeah, but nothin’ to do with tennis.’

Lorraine looked at Angie who had removed her headband and was plucking at it with her fingers, picking off strands of fluff. ‘How do you mean?’

‘Jeff Nathan, the coach, is like a movie star, I think he coaches a lot of famous people. Sometimes when I went over to their place he’d play with us, you know, make up a four with her dad. That was the only time I got to meet him.’

‘The coach?’

‘Yeah, and her dad, he was real nice.’

Angie’s tennis partners were hovering, so she asked if she could go. Lorraine could think of nothing else to ask. Like everyone else she’d spoken to, Angie hadn’t given any real insight into Anna Louise but, like three other girls, she had mentioned the handsome tennis coach.

‘Were you her best friend?’ Lorraine asked as Angie sprang to her feet, eager to leave.

She turned and smiled. ‘I dunno about her best, I think Tilda was, but everyone liked her — she was a real nice girl.’ Angie’s face puckered for a moment and she hesitated, chewing her lips. ‘You think something terrible has happened to her?’ Lorraine looked away, as Angie moved closer. ‘Some of them say she’s maybe been murdered, is it true?’

‘I really don’t know, but thanks for your time.’

‘That’s okay. Bye now.’

Lorraine watched Angie join three other girls, all in similar white tennis gear. They looked over and smiled. She sat for a few moments, watching the girls warming up, slicing the ball over the net. Judging by the hard thudding crack of the ball she could tell, even though she was no tennis player, that the girls could play well. So if AL, as she was known, was better, she must have been very good.

‘I’d say she could have turned professional, if she’d had the inclination.’

Lorraine was outside the squash courts, talking to a gangly boy with a white sweat-shirt slung round his shoulders. Tom Heller was at least six feet two and good-looking in an ordinary, neat-featured way.

When Lorraine asked if he had played regularly with Anna Louise, he shrugged.

‘Yeah, sometimes on weekends at her house. Her dad is a great player.’

Lorraine nodded. ‘What about the coach, er...’

‘Jeff Nathan? Yeah, I played with him at her place. He gives private lessons.’

‘Did you like him?’

He frowned. ‘I didn’t really know him.’

‘Did Anna Louise like him?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You used to date her, didn’t you?’

‘Few times, nothing serious, beach parties, we were just buddies really.’