Chapter Fourteen
Grant and Becky arrived in Castle Street, parking a short distance along the street from the flat and had to walk back.
"I know you two are mates, but what do you really think of our new boss?” Becky asked Grant.
"Mike's a good Detective, a little rough and ready maybe, but he gets the job done", Grant replied.
"The juries out on that one, Grant, when he was one of us it was easy to ignore some of what he had to say. Now he's the boss I will need to bite my tongue a bit".
"He's got what you would call a pragmatic approach to life," Grant said. "He calls a spade a spade if he has to".
Becky looked at Grant, a tight smile on her face. "He’s certainly got a pragmatic approach to drinking, I've heard stories of his early days in Dunedin, but it seems these days he is trying to outdo himself".
"A man always has his reasons Becky; it’s our way of dealing with stress. We don't have knitting circles or woman’s support groups to turn to".
"Well maybe the male species should evolve a bit more then", Becky said, slapping Grant on the arm.
"I heard his wife gave birth to a still born baby a few years ago, maybe that's a reason", she said, quietly.
Grant looked at Becky with a slightly puzzled expression.
"He hasn’t’t really made that public knowledge Becky, where did you hear that?”
"Just talk around the station, you know what it’s like, nothings a secret in that place. How did you hear about it?”
"He spoke to me about it one night after a few drinks. He just blurted it out; I think he wanted to talk. Apparently, it was not a stillbirth, the wee boy lived for a few hours..., and they named him Max. I think he was very premature. It happened just after he made Detective. Mikes a very private person Becky, it would have been hard to share that with anyone, let alone me, so don't say anything will you".
"That’s awful; he must have a pretty strong marriage to survive something like that. That does not really fit with the reputation he has of being a bit of a sleaze though. I've heard he's playing away with Jane Little from Jones Allen".
"That doesn't make him a bad copper, Becky, and that rumour has probably been started by one of your jealous friends from the 'Woman in Police' group you hang out with".
"Bloody men are all the same, stick together until you get found out", Becky replied, shoving Grant good-naturedly.
"Well neither of us put our hands up for the job, so I guess we will just have to get on with it", Grant said.
"Who would really want promotion these days", Becky said. "It's more work for only a little more money, and you get to be the meat in the sandwich between the bullshit demands coming out of the third floor and us plebs having to work even harder to achieve targets that are forever getting further away".
"Sounds like you have a few issues Becky, do you need someone to talk to".
Becky looked at Grant, unsure if he was joking or serious.
They carried on walking.
"I’m feeling a little overdressed", Grant commented as they walked up the street. A scattering of students, heading towards the main university complex, were dressed in an array of attire, but none of them as formal as the conspicuous police officers now in their midst. Students throwing curious or suspicious looks at them as they hurried by.
"It's funny", Becky said, "Students notice a police officer in their midst straight away but never see anything when their flats are being burgled by dodgy strangers".
"It's the way we dress", Grant replied.
A young student went by on a long skateboard in baggy trousers barely covering his designer underwear, a dirty zip up hooded top completing the outfit.
Becky looked at the retreating skateboarder, then back at Grant, "I much prefer the way you dress", she said, smiling.
Grant was still blushing when they walked up to the front door.
No one answered the knock; Grant was about to break the glass in the door when Becky came up with a key retrieved from under the pot plant on the porch.
"People are so predictable", Becky said, unlocking the door. A scruffy ginger ball of fur scrambled out the door as soon it was open, making them both jump. Inside a stale unaired smell greeted them, mixed with a distinctive odor of cat urine.
"Smells like the house has not been opened in a while", Grant said as he cautiously moved further inside.
Both he and Becky had discussed what they might find in the flat, one option was Marion alive and well, offering them a cup of tea and an explanation, another was that the flat would be empty. However, there was another more sinister option that he hoped would not eventuate. Moving slowly through the house they checked the rooms one by one determining that the house was indeed empty. No decaying body, half eaten by a starving ginger cat. Apart from the smell, the house looked reasonably tidy. There were no dishes in the kitchen sink, and the laundry was actually in a basket and not strewn all over the floor. More importantly, the house was empty.
Grant was in the lounge perusing the large collection of CD 's. "Nice collection in here", he called to Becky.
Pressing play on the CD player, a funky tribal sound came filtering through the speakers. The raw earthy voice of the lead singer made it clear who the band was.
"Hunters and collectors", Grant said to himself. "Good taste in music".
"I think this album called Human Frailty", Becky said as she came into the lounge holding a small black dairy in her hand. "One of my favorite songs ever was released on this one".
"I didn't know you were a connoisseur of music, Becky".
"There's probably a lot you don't know about me, Grant", Becky said with a crooked grin.
"I think I learnt a lot about you the other night, like how you can't hold your alcohol. You looked worse than Mike, and that was only about seven pm".
"Yeah, I left soon after that, Mum came and got me. She was not impressed. I think I'm grounded for a few weeks".
"I forgot you still live with your mum, makes it hard for a potential suitor to get close".
"Fancy your chances do you Grant?”
"If the Mrs. ever kicks me out you're my fall back girl, you know that".
Becky had known Grant for a long time, sharing meals with him and his wife on occasion, so felt comfortable with a bit of harmless flirting. It helped keep things light and fun during the long hours spent at work. Besides, she knew Grant was devoted to his wife, a trait that she unfortunately found attractive in a man. Nevertheless, she knew relationships at work were never a good idea, especially in a small squad. Inevitably, one or both would have to leave the squad.
It does not stop a drunken slip, she thought ruefully.
"Look what I found in the bedroom, it's her diary", she said, holding it up for Grant to see. "I had a quick look at it while you were in here messing with her music. There is a lot in it, quite wordy if you ask me, and the handwritings atrocious. She was not very conscientious about it either, some days and even weeks at a time are missing entries. I cannot tell what her last entry was. It will take us a while to go through but the good news is that it has names and addresses in the back for what looks like her friends".
"I wasn't messing about, I was searching", Grant said in a mock hurt voice. Spying a sheath of papers laying on the coffee table he quickly picked them up. "See, and I found this", Grant mumbled as he flicked through them. It turned out to be a script for a play of some sort; the lines that had been marked with a highlighter pen appeared to be a female character with a lot to say.
"Marion must be into amateur dramatics", Grant was saying. "It looks like she landed a leading role in this play". Before he could go any further, a knock on the door turned both their heads.
"Marion is that you?” a female voice called through to the lounge. A pretty face followed the voice with brown hair peering around the door.
Startled at seeing two strangers, the girl almost toppled into the lounge. "Who the hell are you", she demanded.
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"Police", Becky and Grant chimed together.
Suspicious, she stood her ground, "Can you show me some identification". A slight tremor in her hand the only sign of nerves in her otherwise confident stance.
Grant had his badge out and showed it to her, Becky unable to find hers.
"We're looking for Marion to as it happens; could you tell us who you are?”
The girl peered at Grant’s identification uncertainly.
"I'm Beth and I live here.... Well actually, I have not actually started living here, I was supposed to move in last week but Marion has not been home. I have been collecting her mail and throwing the junk away, it was starting to build up. When I saw the door open this morning, I thought she had turned up at last. See, I have been sleeping on a friends couch as I moved from my last place. It was because of all the parties, the boys I was sharing with did not stop drinking, every night. I was the one who always ended up cleaning the place; god knows how they get on with their degrees. I never saw them study once. I put up with it for months before it became too much. When I met Marion at the playhouse and she said she was looking for someone to share, I ...”
Grant put a hand gently on Beth's shoulder, fearing she would not stop talking. He did not even think she had taken a breath during her continuous spouting. "Okay Beth, take a breath and come and sit down. Would it be alright to ask you some questions"?
"What sort of questions? Do you think something has happened to her?” she asked guardedly.
It was Becky who spoke this time, "We don't know yet, her mother is worried, she has not been seen for a while, it's a bit out of character for her apparently, but we haven't spoken to her friends or boyfriend yet so she could just be with them".
"I don't know any of her friends, Marion is a bit older than me, and I’m only in my 1st year. I only know her from the playhouse; she has the part of Jane in our play. She's very good".
"Is this the play", Grant asked, holding up the script he had in his hand.
"That looks like it," Beth said peering closer, "Marion has the lead female role, Jonas picked her out. She did not even have to audition for the part. At rehearsals he is always raving about her performances, I must admit she is my idol; I try to copy her style whenever I can…. Jonas actually wrote the script", she continued, “He says he wants to make a statement about morality, courage and violence within the family".
"Who's Jonas?” asked Grant.
"Jonas Clifton, he is a professor at the university, but runs the university playhouse theatre as well. He directs most of the stuff we do, but this is the first script he has written that I know of. He is a very clever man. He is also a bit of a dish", she added looking at Becky with a shy smile.
What planet does this girl come from? Still using words like dish, thought Becky, smiling back at her. "Well Beth, you have been helpful, you might as well stay at the house now its opened, you can give us a call if Marion turns up" , Becky said, handing her a card. "Where can we find the playhouse theatre?”
"We are meeting tonight for rehearsal; it's at the old church on Dundas Street. Six o'clock".
Returning to the station Grant and Becky found John on his own in the office eating his staple Subway lunch.
"John it's only ten thirty in the morning, bit early for lunch", Grant said to him as he threw the car keys on the desk.
"Nothing else to do", John spluttered through a mouthful of meatball sub, spitting salad onto his trousers.
Becky put a hand to her mouth, "That’s just gross John, didn't your mother ever teach you any manners".
Cleaning himself up and swallowing the remaining piece, John asked if they had come up with anything.
Grant gave him the rundown, Marion was not home, it looked like the house had been empty a while. Beth, the new flat mate, had given them some information on a production that Marion was playing the female lead. They had to do an enquiry at the theatre at six.
"Apart from what Grant has just said there's not much else to go on. But there was this", Becky added, throwing John the diary, "It has the names and addresses in the back of her friends, Mat is one of the names in there, it may be the boyfriend. It might be useful to you".
"Cheers Becky, I was finding it hard to come up with names to follow up on". John looked at the empty note pad in front of him. "I had come up with exactly zilch", he added.
Unlikely that you would find out any useful information at a fast food restaurant, thought Becky.
"I'll need that back John, I want to go over the diary entries, see if anything is relevant".
"Rather you than me, you never know what women write about in these things, it could be all Fifty Shades inside that", John said, regarding the dairy in his hand with a slight distaste.
"I'll keep that in mind", Becky said coolly.
"What's this about fifty shades", Bridger said as he and Jo entered the office.
"Just the unknown workings of Johns mind", Becky mumbled.
"Maybe you could tell us about that fifty shades of blonde, lawyer, then Mike", John said. "I bet she knows a trick or two".
Bridger's mind flashed back to Friday night. He could not remember even if he wanted to. He felt a little compromised that Jane had been brought into the conversation, he had not realised he had been that obvious. He just hoped everybody else's memory was in the same state as his.
"She certainly is something John, but she has nothing on my wife", he said, trying to divert the conversation.
John put a finger down his throat and gagged.
Bridger looked around. Becky was regarding him in a questioning manner. He ignored her look.
"Where's everyone at with their enquiries then?”
John jumped in and told him about the diary with its names secreted in the rear, neglecting to mention Becky had recovered it from Marion's flat. "I haven't had a chance to call any of them yet", he said, glancing at the empty Sub wrapper on his desk.
Bridger followed his gaze, "I see, well you better get onto it then, the sooner we eliminate them the sooner we can move on".
Becky filled him in on what Beth had told her and Grant.
"That's a good start you two, it seems that some of my directions are getting through even if I'm not the most experienced leader", he said, only half-joking. John avoided his gaze and concentrated on the telephone receiver he was now holding.
"Well Jo and I did not get a lot more from Mrs. Watson, although with the help of Jo I was able to make an apology of sorts for yesterday's unneeded visit to the mortuary. Hopefully I have avoided my first complaint as a sergeant". Bridger looked over at Jo, "I thought you had a good manner with her Jo, I think she warmed to you".
Jo just looked at the ground and turned a deep red.
You will have to get a thicker skin if you want to keep going in this job, Bridger was thinking.
"Right let’s get on with some work, John looks as if he needs a hand on the phones, all hands to the pumps men".
After less than thirty minutes, they had concluded that Marion was not with any of her friends. They had not seen her in the days leading up to her disappearance, every one of her friends mentioning the time she spent with Mat as the reason. Her boyfriend turned out to be Mat Simpson and he was on his way in to see them, claiming he had only just got back from a skiing holiday with his friends and had not seen Marion since she had left his flat over a week ago.
To give him credit, Bridger thought, he did seem genuinely surprised and then actually worried that we would be asking him about her whereabouts. Unfortunately, in cases like this suspicion would easily fall on those closest to the victim.
Was that what she was, a victim? Could a missing person be a victim? Bridger hoped he was wrong in the terminology he was using. It was a hope that had no foundation in reality. It really did seem that Marion had just disappeared off the face of the earth. That would make her a victim in anyone's books.
Looking at the whiteboard in front of him, he had quickly outlin
ed the enquiry underway. He had almost forgotten it was now his job to lead this enquiry; somebody had done this for him last week. He had placed an A4 picture of Marion at the top, drawn various lines off the picture leading to enquiries completed and enquiries yet to complete.
They could disregard the completed enquiries he thought, it all leads to nothing, just background stuff really. The boyfriend Mat would be next and he would be the one to do that interview. Later they had to visit the Playhouse Theatre and speak to this Jonas. Bridger was skeptical whether that would lead to anything but every avenue had to be covered.
He would have to put out a release to the media in due course now that they had all but confirmed that she was missing. He would also have to explain where they were at with the enquiry when he attended the crime meeting in the morning so he wanted to make sure he had everything under control.
It looked like another late one this evening, the thought sitting on his mind while he tried to think how to explain it to Laura. He still needed to let her know what he was doing if only to avoid an argument later.
Sighing he picked up his phone, the direct approach would have to do it. There was no answer on her cell phone but she was probably still in a meeting or something. Leaving an insubstantial message he finished by saying he would text her if anything changed.
Sitting across the desk from him was a male who looked around thirty, trying his best to look like the typical mature student, neatly trimmed beard, thick rimmed glasses, woolen jersey, fawn colored trousers, finished off with a pair of brown leather shoes that looked suspiciously like the boat shoes he used to wear in the nineteen eighties.
After explaining in more detail the reason he needed to speak with him, Bridger began.
"So Mat what course are you taking at the university?”
"I'm not a student, I'm a mechanic", Mat replied, "I work at Mueller Motors on King Edward Street".
So much for first appearances, Bridger thought, normally priding himself on his observations of people.
"How old are you Mat?”
"I’m Thirty two".
Trying to be younger, thought Bridger.
"So how do you know Marion?”
"What, you think, cause she's at Uni and I'm just a mechanic that I'm not her type".
"Sorry Mat, I didn't mean it that way", Bridger said, adjusting his tone slightly.
Somebody is a bit insecure and touchy, he thought, writing a note on the pad in front of him to follow up on the state of this relationship.
"You're seeing Marion, is that right?”
"Yeah, we have been going out for about 6 months. One of my ex flat mates introduced us, well sort of, Marion used to visit her and I, sort of, just butted in. You know when you meet someone and she just seems so right, well that was Marion. It felt like I had known her all my life".
"What was your flat mate’s name?”
"Lucy it was, she moved out soon after we got together, she said it was because she had found somewhere closer to Uni, but I think it was because whenever Marion came round she would have competition for her attention. She couldn’t handle it and got a bit jealous".
Bridger wondered what went on in someone's life to be living in a flatting situation at the age of 32.
"When was the last time you saw her?”
"Who..., Lucy?”
"I think it's best if we concentrate on Marion now Mat".
"Yeah sorry, just get a bit nervous around you lot..., sorry, I mean the police".
"That's okay Mat, you're not under any suspicion, and you’re just here to help". However, it also depends on what you have to tell us though, Bridger was thinking.
"Yeah..., Marion..., I saw her on the day I was going skiing with my mates, that was Friday, week before last. I was leaving mid morning so she left after breakfast to go back to her flat. She couldn't come with me cause she had an exam or something".
"How was she getting home?”
"Walking, she walked everywhere. She didn't have a car".
Bridger silently noted the use of the word 'didn't' as opposed to 'doesn't'. "What was she wearing?”
"I'm not sure now; it was a while ago... Maybe her grey polar fleece, jeans... and she would definitely have been wearing her sexy boots, she wore them everywhere, hardly ever took them off". Mat was grinning at Bridger as if trying to imply something.
"You're not taking this very seriously Mat, Marion's missing as far as we know and we need to ask these questions".
"Yeah sorry..., you're right", Mat said as his face became paler, finally realizing the seriousness of the situation.
The rest of the interview went in a more formal manner.
Returning to the office Bridger was reviewing in his mind what Mat had told him. It was not much to be exact. According to Mat they were both happy in their relationship, short that it was, although he suspected that Mat felt a bit insecure that Marion was such a high achiever and he just a mechanic. He had provided the names of the friends he was skiing with, they would apparently confirm he had been where he said he was. He had given permission to search his flat, although Bridger had sold that one to him by telling him that they just needed a quick look for formality sake.
Mat was typical of an undereducated male, slightly intimidated in the face of authority or someone of higher intelligence, unsure of his place in the world, wanting to give a good impression but putting his foot in it in the process. A male feeling slightly emasculated by the role he fulfilled in the modern world.
Did he think he was capable of harming Marion, Bridger could not tell, but one thing he did know was that at this stage Mat was the only suspect he had. It was not a very good start to his first enquiry. Maybe he should not write off the enquiry at the theatre to soon, it might throw up some much needed luck.