Gay Longworth - The Unquiet Dead

Jessie quietly shook her head.

‘It sounds serious,’ said Bill.

‘Wait for the CCTV footage and then tell me if you think she’s been abducted. They’ll show it at the end of the bulletin, that way they keep the viewers glued.’

‘This cynicism doesn’t suit you, Jessie.’

‘It isn’t cynicism,’ she said, looking at her brother. ‘It’s instinct. And if I’m wrong, Moore will have my guts for garters.’

The newsreader went on until it was time to go to a break. After the ads, as Jessie had predicted, they showed the CCTV clip. Jessie had rounded up the film from all the public cameras around Soho that covered the coffee shop and its various approaches. She had also checked the ones around the actress’s house. If suspicious circumstances were ever confirmed, Jessie’s next step would be to gain access to the non-public CCTV footage: the cameras outside local shops, garages and offices. Jessie didn’t think it would come to that. By five that afternoon, after hours spent scanning the footage frame by frame, Anna Maria had been caught on film. The cab she had taken from her mother’s house had dropped her at the beginning of Carnaby Street. She had walked through the throng to the corner of Poland Street and Broadwick Street. There, directly under the eye of a surveillance camera, Anna Maria had waited for some time before moving off towards Marshall Street. Once out of range of the camera, she simply disappeared.

Bill and Jessie watched the actress’s daughter, stationary amidst the rushing crowd. She was noticeable by her stillness and her Dolce & Gabbana fur-trimmed coat and high-heeled boots.

‘Obviously she’s waiting for someone. Perhaps she misunderstood the plan with her friends?’ said Bill.

‘If she was waiting for someone she’d be looking around, glancing at her watch, maybe making a call to see where her friends are. She’s doing none of those things; she’s just standing there. And look at the bag.’

‘It’s big,’ said Bill.

‘Isn’t it?’

‘But that’s fashionable.’

‘Bill, you’ve been in the back of beyond for months, how do you know what is fashionable?’

Bill grinned. ‘Didn’t I tell you about the air hostess on the flight back?’

‘You swapped fashion tips with an air hostess?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Remind me not to let you anywhere near my friends.’

‘You’ll have to if you’re going to be burning the midnight oil on this case.’

‘Bill, there isn’t a case, unless it’s a prosecution for wasting police time. I offer you my final piece of evidence.’ She passed him a copy of the previous day’s Evening Standard . ‘You find me a programme at five o’clock that a sixteen-year-old girl would leave her friends for to return home and watch. There isn’t one. Anna Maria Klein is up to something, and it’s possible her mother is directing the show.’

‘I don’t know, Jess, she looked distraught on the news piece I saw.’

‘She’s an actress. It’s her job to convince people.’

Jessie woke early to wash her hair. Determined to rectify the situation with DCI Moore, she dressed with her new boss in mind. She wouldn’t stretch to a skirt; not just because they made chasing criminals very hard, but because the piss-take she’d receive would be extreme. More extreme than normal. Instead, she opted for her black trouser suit, hoping it would endear her to the woman. If looking good was important to her new boss, well, this suit made Jessie look good, even if she said so herself. DCI Moore was obviously a hard nut. Fair enough, you had to be hard to succeed in this game. Jessie would dance to her tune. The line of command was more important than personality.

Clipping her hair off her face with slides, she put on enough make-up so that a woman would notice but a man wouldn’t. If Anna Maria hadn’t reappeared from wherever she was holed up, there was the possibility Jessie would be in front of the camera before the day was out. But when she saw herself in the hall mirror she nearly tore it all off. Dressing like this went against her self-imposed laws of survival. Rule number one: camouflage. You can’t attack what you can’t see.

Bill appeared from his bedroom in his boxer shorts, smiled at her sleepily and went to the bathroom. She envied him his fitness. The more she progressed in the police force, the more sedentary her life was becoming. She made a promise to herself that she would run home from work at the end of the day and went into the spare room to fetch her kit.

‘Jesus, Bill, you should think of opening a window occasionally,’ shouted Jessie. ‘It stinks in here.’

‘Sorry,’ replied a voice as the loo flushed. ‘Give me a second and I’ll buy you breakfast.’

Jessie glanced at her watch as Bill entered the room.

‘Come on, just a quick fry-up round the corner. It’s still early.’

‘Don’t you want a lie-in?’

‘This is a lie-in. I’m used to getting up at five.’

‘Well, all right – but we’d better make it quick.’

Jessie walked down the deserted hallway of the CID unit and felt very uneasy. She sat at her desk and listened to the sound of traffic from the street below. No doors opened and closed, no radios crackled, no phones rang, so she got up again and went upstairs to Jones’ recently vacated office. A group of her fellow officers were coming out of his room; perhaps she was being paranoid, but they appeared to be giving each other knowing looks.

‘What’s up, Fry?’ she asked one of the passing detective constables.

‘Best you ask the new boss,’ he muttered before shouting to another group of officers about meeting them in the canteen. When Jessie got to the office door she saw Mark sitting at the former DCI’s desk. He was looking out of the window, which offered a remarkable view across Mayfair to Hyde Park. In the evenings it filled with the rarely seen light of the setting sun. Jones had always had the blinds down, but Moore obviously had other decorating plans.

‘Hi, Mark, you been promoted after all?’

‘No,’ said a now familiar voice. DCI Moore walked into the office from the secretary’s side room.

‘Morning, ma’am. Have I missed something?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

Okay, so the woman was a hard nut and didn’t mince her words. All good qualities in a commanding officer, Jessie told herself. ‘What’s going on?’ she continued.

‘Don’t you think, given the circumstances, it would have been wise to get in early?’

It was only eight thirty, but Jessie didn’t think it ‘wise’ to argue.

‘Sorry.’

‘I’ve spoken to you twice, Driver, and twice you’ve had to apologise. Is this going to be a running theme with you?’

‘No,’ said Jessie, stiffening.

‘Good. DI Ward has made some rather interesting discoveries regarding the Klein case. Mark, although it’s a waste of your time, would you mind telling DI Driver what you told everyone this morning?’

He tried to look humble, he even tried to look sympathetic, but neither look could hide the way his body inflated slightly. The man was enjoying this more than he should. Jessie saw months of team-building slip away from her and wondered if he had really tried as hard as he claimed to track her down. Even if her mobile didn’t have any reception, she had a pager and he hadn’t called that.

‘Anna Maria Klein has form,’ said Mark.

‘At her age?’

‘At her age an official warning is as close to form as you can get,’ said Mark indignantly.

‘I’m sorry you didn’t look into this yesterday,’ said Moore sternly.

Jessie wasn’t going to apologise again. ‘What was it for?’ she asked Mark.