S. Bolton - Dead Scared

I shook my head. ‘I knew her from the Blue,’ I said. ‘You know, the pub where she worked.’

They were nodding their heads. Nicole had worked two nights a week and one lunchtime in the Cambridge Blue, a pub on Gwydir Street. There had been photographs and a number of references to it on Facebook. ‘I just came to see if there was going to be some sort of memorial service for her,’ I said. ‘I know she went to church from time to time.’ Something else I’d discovered on Facebook.

The girls were looking at each other, faces puzzled, shoulders shrugging. It was far too soon for a memorial service.

‘Also, there was something she asked me to get for her,’ I went on, lifting my bag up from the floor. Its contents chinked softly together. ‘I’ve got a contact in the wine trade and I can get it quite cheap. She said somebody called Flick had a birthday coming up and she wanted to surprise her.’

I’d already spotted Flick, a gorgeous Amazon of a girl, nearly six feet tall, with an athlete’s build and long Nordic blonde hair. She looked like Eowyn from The Lord of the Rings and she had her hand to her mouth.

‘It’s nothing special,’ I said, pressing home my advantage. I’d learned all about Flick, her imminent twentieth birthday and her love of all drinks sparkling on Nicole’s Facebook pages. ‘Just Prosecco, but quite a good one.’

I pulled three bottles of sparkling Italian wine from my bag. I’d bought them in a supermarket on the way over, making sure they were chilled. ‘If you could see Flick gets them, that would be great,’ I said, going in for the kill. ‘I’ll leave you in peace now. Sorry to be so pathetic. I’m still in shock, I guess.’

‘Would you like a coffee?’ one of the girls asked me. I feigned surprise and opened my mouth to accept.

‘I’ve got a better idea,’ said Flick. ‘Who’s got some glasses?’

Evi put the phone down, half expecting it to start ringing again any second. The sergeant she’d spoken to had been polite but distant. He’d told her to make a note of the number and times of the calls and to forward the emails on to him. He hadn’t suggested sending anyone round.

She stood up and went into the kitchen. If someone was watching her from outside, the back garden was where he’d be. She crossed to the door, double-checking that it was locked. She really needed to get blinds put on these windows.

‘I’ve seen you wear purple more than once, Dr Oliver,’ the sergeant had said to her. ‘Bit of a favourite of yours, isn’t it? Could be just a lucky guess. Send me the emails and we’ll have a look at them. I wouldn’t hold out much hope, though. If they were sent from a public building using an anonymous Gmail account, there won’t be a lot we can do.’

Evi sat down in her stairlift and pressed the button. The police weren’t coming and someone had to check her top floor. She’d never sleep otherwise.

Ten minutes later the phone was ringing again. She almost didn’t answer.

‘John Castell here, Evi,’ the deep voice with its faint Norfolk accent said. ‘The duty sergeant just called me at home to tell me about your emails. Are you planning to send them through tonight?’

‘I sent them fifteen minutes ago,’ said Evi.

‘Really? I checked with him not two minutes ago. Hang on, let me check again. The line will go dead for a few seconds.’

A short pause while Evi walked back to her desk.

‘Nope, nothing,’ said Castell. ‘Can you try sending them direct to me?’

‘Let me try.’ Evi opened her inbox and ran the cursor to the top of the list. The two emails weren’t there. She flicked open Junk Mail, Personal Messages and Deleted Items, in case she’d accidentally binned them or filed them away. Nothing. Finally, she clicked on Sent Mail. Nothing at all.

The two emails had disappeared from her system.

Two bottles of Prosecco later, we’d moved from the kitchen into Flick’s room. It was a study bedroom, with a large desk and a narrow bed. A crimson creeper was poking its way in through the open window. Flick had offered me the one chair; two more were brought from rooms nearby. Flick and a girl called Sarah lay on the bed.

‘I know it’s normal to wish there was more you could have done,’ I was saying as sympathetic faces nodded around me. ‘The last time I saw Nicole I knew something wasn’t right but I was in a hurry. I figured we could talk it through properly when I saw her again.’

‘We always think we have more time,’ said Flick.

‘I just knew, though,’ I went on. ‘I knew something wasn’t right. Did she say anything to any of you?’

‘What sort of not right?’ asked Sarah.

‘I didn’t give her chance,’ I admitted. ‘But a couple of times she mentioned to me that she thought someone was coming into her room at night when it was locked.’

One big thing bothering me, apart from the second set of tyre tracks on the B road, was Bryony’s reported insistence that she was being abused by mysterious night-time assailants. I was just a little less willing to write her off as delusional than everyone else seemed to be.

Around the room the four girls looked interested but puzzled.

‘Coming into her room?’ asked a dark-skinned girl called Jasmine.

I nodded. ‘To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to make of it,’ I said. ‘She seemed pretty worried about it, though.’

Still puzzled. Shrugs. Hair tossing.

‘She did have quite noisy bad dreams but she never mentioned that,’ said Flick.

‘Coming in and doing what?’ asked a thin, pale girl called Lynsey.

I squirmed a bit on my chair, tried to look as though what I was about to say was making me feel uncomfortable. ‘Well, touching her,’ I said. ‘While she was asleep. To be honest, she made it sound pretty creepy.’

Three of them were very interested now. A few bottles of wine and some spooky stories. Not a bad way to spend an evening. The fourth girl, Lynsey, looked worried. ‘She never said anything to me,’ she said. ‘But she got very odd towards the end.’ She looked at the others. ‘Do you remember?’

A couple of heads were nodding. ‘It started in October, didn’t it?’ said Flick. ‘When she disappeared.’

Someone was banging on her door. Evi still hadn’t got used to how loud the round brass doorknocker was. The disabled physics professor had probably been half deaf as well.

‘Hi,’ said the tall man on her doorstep. The last person she’d have guessed.

‘Nick?’

Nick Bell gave an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry to pounce on you like this, Evi. I can come back another time.’

‘It’s fine, really,’ said Evi, stepping back to release the chain and open the door. Nick stepped inside, bringing a scent of cold January air with him. He was in his usual jeans and oiled-wool blue sweater, the only clothes she’d ever seen him wear when he wasn’t at work. She was pretty certain she remembered the sweater from their student days. Men who looked like Nick didn’t need to make an effort and, as far as she could remember, he never had. ‘I won’t keep you,’ he said. ‘I just didn’t want to do this over the phone.’

‘Now I’m intrigued,’ said Evi. ‘Coffee? Glass of wine?’

‘Thank you.’

Evi made her way to the kitchen, hearing his footsteps following behind. He took the glass of red wine she held out and she leaned back against the counter, wondering if he was going to tell her off for drinking alcohol. It really wasn’t a good idea with the combination of painkillers she took.

‘I ran your request past the other partners,’ Nick said. ‘Megan was pretty relaxed but I didn’t get a particularly encouraging response from the others, I’m afraid.’

Evi shrugged. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t really expect you to.’