It was a cool summer’s afternoon a couple of months and DI Peters was sitting in his car parked opposite, and a little way away from, Emily Baxter’s house. He had made some enquiries previously and while it hadn’t as yet been sold, he couldn’t find any indication that it had been rented out either. Just prior to when Mrs. Baxter had last been seen a young man, probably in his twenties and 5’7 with short dark hair, had been seen coming and going on a semi regular basis for a few weeks. There hadn’t been many sightings of Mrs. Baxter around the same time. There was no sign of forced entry or any sign of a struggle.
They had even been able to have the house watched for a few days after her disappearance had been reported, but there had been no sighting of either this young man or even Mrs. Baxter herself. In fact there had been sign of any callers at all, except for the usual postal deliveries from Royal Mail. For all intents and purposes the place looked as though it had been abandoned, with what looked all of Mrs. Baxter’s belongings still in the house. Which was one of the things that really didn’t add up to DI Peters and made him think that she had been killed somewhere along the line, but that it hadn’t been done here at the house.
What am I doing here? DI Peters had wondered to himself several times over the past three hours as he sat there sipping coffee that tasted as though it was long past it's best in the vain hope that something would happen. There had been, almost two hours ago now, a moment of hope when a car had pulled up right outside the house and a man stepped out. Even though to DI Peters he looked too old and tall to be the man he was looking for DI Peters had perked up and focused all his attention on this stranger.
The man walked up and down the street a couple of times as he looked the front of the house over as if he were looking for something himself. Then he stood right on the edge of the pavement, just y the side of his car, and pulled out his mobile phone. This he pulled up to his eye line and stood still for a couple of minutes, and while he did DI Peters wondered what he was up. For a moment he thought that he had imagined it, but DI Peters was certain that he had seen a slight flash come from the vicinity of his phone and then it happened again, and a third time. For whatever reason the man was seemed to be taking photos of the outside of Mrs. Baxter’s house, which certainly hadn't been listed with any of the estate agents in the area.
Then the man seemed to speak into his phone for a few minutes and while he did DI Peters strained his eyes to train and make out the registration of the car, which he then noted down in his notebook. The man finished his call, got back into his car and drove off. As he did so DI Peters tried to think of all the possibilities that could account for this peculiar behavior. The most likely was that he was from some estate agent or other and was taking photos for their listing, but then why not go into the house as well and take interior shots? If that was the case then who had instructed them and was the intention to sell or to rent it out?
“This is DI Peters, registration check please,” DI Peters said into his radio after the man had left and gave the operator the registration he had noted down.
“Registered owner is Bryce Howard,” the operator said after a pause of a couple of minutes while she waited for the information to come through on her computer and she then gave DI Peters the address for Mr. Howard.
“Does it give his occupation? “ DI Peters then asked when he’d been able to note down the name and address.
“None listed at present,” the operator then confirmed when the information came through on her computer.
“Ok thanks,” DI Peters said as he put his radio. I wonder what he was doing, DI Peters thought to himself as it seemed odd that someone might try to case the house in broad daylight and in such an obvious manner. But then he had seen several strange things over the years that could be said to have been even odder and the brazen nerve, or even stupidity, of some criminals never ceased to amaze him. It certainly could turn out to be a line of enquiry he could follow up later.
That had been the pretty the only even vaguely interesting event in what so far had seemed to have been a wasted three hours of his day off that DI Peters could have used for all sorts of other things he needed to have done that Saturday afternoon. It seemed so far that his feeling about this case was misdirected and perhaps there wasn’t anything here at all other than a simple missing person who had decided one day to get up and leave her others, apparently, normal life.
It wouldn’t have surprised DI Peters if she had done so as a reaction to the death of her husband, as he had seen people do all kinds of weird and unusual things that in other circumstances would have seemed completely out of character. But then again grief, and other extreme emotional states, can make people do the most unbelievable things. And just as this thought rolled through DI Peters’ mind a woman almost perfectly fitting the description of the one seen around the time of Mrs. Baxter’s disappearance casually wondered into his line of sight. Maybe there is something here after all, DI Peters thought to himself.