commented. 'You're right about coincidence. That's why I was ringing you.' He explained about Marshbanks's concern.
'Yes, that's the one, all right. I've had my lads out this morning making routine inquiries, but no one's falling over themselves to cooperate. Look, have you a lot on at the moment?'
'Damn all. I'd be glad of something to do. I'll clear it with the Super and be right over.'
'Fine. But, Dave, before you come, have another word with that lad of yours. Anything at all on this girl could be crucial.'
Simon Marshbanks sat across the desk from Webb, Sergeant Jackson at his side.
'It seems,' the DCI was saying, 'that SB are taking this seriously, and they'd like us to give them a hand. So tell me everything you can about this girl, Simon. Damn it, I don't even know her name.'
'Arlette Picard, sir.'
'Description?'
'Quite tall—five-six or seven. Fair hair, sometimes in a plait and sometimes loose. Blue eyes. Weight about eight and a half stone.'
'Age?'
'Twenty-four, I think she said. She's been through a French university—it's a doctorate she's working on here.' 'And how did you meet her?'
'Through a friend of mine, Peter Campbell. She's in digs next door to him.'
'Landlady's name and address?' 'Mrs King, Twenty-four, Farthing Lane.' 'Do you know the girl's home address?' 'No, but she comes from Angers.' 'Spell it.'
Marshbanks did so. He'd pronounced it 'Onjay'. That's what came of going to a posh school, Webb reflected philosophically. Young Simon's scholastic connections had been of help to them in the past. 'How well do you know her? Intimately?'
Simon's habitually red checks flamed, and beside him, Jackson moved uncomfortably. 'No, sir. Nothing like that.'
'Sorry,' Webb said briefly, 'but we need to get the facts straight.'
'We went to one or two of the same parties and got on quite well. For some reason she's intrigued by my being in the police—she calls me 'Flic'. But I've only taken her out twice, once to the cinema and once for a drink. We'd planned to spend the rest of Tuesday together and have a meal at the Hong Kong. She's mad on Chinese food.'
'Has she any regular boyfriends—anyone who might be jealous?'
'No one serious. She goes round with a crowd.' 'Any names you can remember?'
'Afraid not.' He grinned, looking suddenly very young. 'If anyone's jealous, it's probably the girls. Arlette's the star attraction at the moment, and I can see why. She's so different.'
'And accommodating?'
'I don't think so, sir. She enjoys flirting, but I'm pretty sure that's as far as it goes. In some ways she's a very private girl.'
'All right, Simon, that's all for now. Get hold of John Manning and see what you can suss out in the Lethbridge Road area. If you come up with anything, contact us at SB.'
As they walked round to the car park, Jackson said diffidently, 'You reckon we'll be taking this case on, Guv?'
'It looks like it, Ken, with DI Ledbetter semi-laid-up.'
'Hope it doesn't drag on too long.'
Webb glanced at him in surprise, then understanding came. Jackson's wife was expecting twins, and they were due any day. 'SB's only a fifty-minute drive, Ken. Leave Millie their number, if it'll make you feel happier.'
Jackson grinned shamefacedly. 'I already have.'
'Your mother-in-law's arrived, hasn't she? Well then, there's nothing to worry about.'
There spoke a childless man, Jackson reflected, starting up the car.
It was a lovely day for a drive, and Webb leaned back in his seat, determined to enjoy it. He wished the French girl no harm, but he was grateful to have something to occupy his mind other than Hannah and her new escort.
'Interesting place, Steeple Bayliss,' he remarked, to distract his sergeant from domestic worries. 'Know it at all?' 'I've been over a couple of times.'
'That chasm it's built on was carved out by the last Ice Age. The town grew up on the north side, which has the more gradual slope, but the south bank was uncultivated right up to the nineteenth century, when
'Yes, that's the one, all right. I've had my lads out this morning making routine inquiries, but no one's falling over themselves to cooperate. Look, have you a lot on at the moment?'
'Damn all. I'd be glad of something to do. I'll clear it with the Super and be right over.'
'Fine. But, Dave, before you come, have another word with that lad of yours. Anything at all on this girl could be crucial.'
Simon Marshbanks sat across the desk from Webb, Sergeant Jackson at his side.
'It seems,' the DCI was saying, 'that SB are taking this seriously, and they'd like us to give them a hand. So tell me everything you can about this girl, Simon. Damn it, I don't even know her name.'
'Arlette Picard, sir.'
'Description?'
'Quite tall—five-six or seven. Fair hair, sometimes in a plait and sometimes loose. Blue eyes. Weight about eight and a half stone.'
'Age?'
'Twenty-four, I think she said. She's been through a French university—it's a doctorate she's working on here.' 'And how did you meet her?'
'Through a friend of mine, Peter Campbell. She's in digs next door to him.'
'Landlady's name and address?' 'Mrs King, Twenty-four, Farthing Lane.' 'Do you know the girl's home address?' 'No, but she comes from Angers.' 'Spell it.'
Marshbanks did so. He'd pronounced it 'Onjay'. That's what came of going to a posh school, Webb reflected philosophically. Young Simon's scholastic connections had been of help to them in the past. 'How well do you know her? Intimately?'
Simon's habitually red checks flamed, and beside him, Jackson moved uncomfortably. 'No, sir. Nothing like that.'
'Sorry,' Webb said briefly, 'but we need to get the facts straight.'
'We went to one or two of the same parties and got on quite well. For some reason she's intrigued by my being in the police—she calls me 'Flic'. But I've only taken her out twice, once to the cinema and once for a drink. We'd planned to spend the rest of Tuesday together and have a meal at the Hong Kong. She's mad on Chinese food.'
'Has she any regular boyfriends—anyone who might be jealous?'
'No one serious. She goes round with a crowd.' 'Any names you can remember?'
'Afraid not.' He grinned, looking suddenly very young. 'If anyone's jealous, it's probably the girls. Arlette's the star attraction at the moment, and I can see why. She's so different.'
'And accommodating?'
'I don't think so, sir. She enjoys flirting, but I'm pretty sure that's as far as it goes. In some ways she's a very private girl.'
'All right, Simon, that's all for now. Get hold of John Manning and see what you can suss out in the Lethbridge Road area. If you come up with anything, contact us at SB.'
As they walked round to the car park, Jackson said diffidently, 'You reckon we'll be taking this case on, Guv?'
'It looks like it, Ken, with DI Ledbetter semi-laid-up.'
'Hope it doesn't drag on too long.'
Webb glanced at him in surprise, then understanding came. Jackson's wife was expecting twins, and they were due any day. 'SB's only a fifty-minute drive, Ken. Leave Millie their number, if it'll make you feel happier.'
Jackson grinned shamefacedly. 'I already have.'
'Your mother-in-law's arrived, hasn't she? Well then, there's nothing to worry about.'
There spoke a childless man, Jackson reflected, starting up the car.
It was a lovely day for a drive, and Webb leaned back in his seat, determined to enjoy it. He wished the French girl no harm, but he was grateful to have something to occupy his mind other than Hannah and her new escort.
'Interesting place, Steeple Bayliss,' he remarked, to distract his sergeant from domestic worries. 'Know it at all?' 'I've been over a couple of times.'
'That chasm it's built on was carved out by the last Ice Age. The town grew up on the north side, which has the more gradual slope, but the south bank was uncultivated right up to the nineteenth century, when
Similar Books
Travellers #1
Jack Lasenby
est
Adelaide Bry
Hollow Space
Belladonna Bordeaux
Black Skies
Leo J. Maloney
CALL MAMA
Terry H. Watson
Curse of the Ancients
Matt de la Pena
The Rival Queens
Nancy Goldstone
Killer Smile
Lisa Scottoline
Succession of Witches
Karen Mead