giggling.
Stevenson stepped outside and closed the front door behind him. ‘How’s Alice holding up? It must be awful. Any news?’
‘We’re still making enquiries and we were wondering if you noticed anything unusual last Friday night.’
‘Honestly, no. Alice mentioned Kyle might be having a party but we forgot all about it, it was so quiet.’
‘So you didn’t see any guests arriving, for instance?’ asked Noble.
‘I saw one of the girls arrive. She had dark, mid-length hair and dark eyes. Very pretty. About half eight that would have been.’
‘Walking?’ Stevenson nodded. ‘How was she dressed?’
‘Jeans and a hoodie. Trainers, I think. Oh, and she had a small rucksack.’
‘Not exactly party clothes,’ observed Brook.
‘I suppose not.’
Noble finished making a note. ‘No one else?’
‘No one.’
‘What about leaving?’
‘No. We’d be in bed by then, I guess, but we didn’t hear a commotion or anything.’
‘No cars or taxis idling outside the house?’
‘Not that I heard.’
‘No loud conversations?’ Again Stevenson shook his head. Brook turned to leave. ‘Thanks.’
Mr Stevenson raised a finger. ‘There was one thing a bit odd. It may be nothing.’
‘Go on.’
‘It was around half nine. I thought I saw another of Kyle’s friends arriving for the party, but I’m not sure — a young lad.’
‘Can you describe him?’
‘Tall, well-built and good-looking. I don’t know him but I’ve seen him around.’
‘You got a good look then.’
‘Well, it was hard not to. He stood outside under the streetlamp for a good five minutes, maybe more.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Nothing,’ said Mr Stevenson. ‘I got the impression he was deciding.’
‘Deciding what?’
‘Whether to go into the party.’
‘Did you see him go in?’
‘Well no, that was the odd thing. I saw him disappear, presumably to go into the house. But a few minutes later, I saw him walking away.’
‘Maybe he was just calling in?’ said Brook.
‘Maybe.’ Stevenson shrugged. ‘But the odd thing was, he had a present in his hand, wrapped up. I saw it quite clearly.’
‘Not unusual for a birthday party,’ observed Noble. ‘He could’ve been dropping it off.’
‘That’s just it. He still had it when he was walking away.’
Brook and Noble stared down at the mattress. The pink mobile phone and the leaflet sat in the middle of the fluffy pink duvet. The phone was switched off.
‘That’s how it was,’ said Mrs Blake from the bedroom doorway. ‘We haven’t touched a thing.’
Brook and Noble dropped the phone and the Deity leaflet into evidence bags and finished their cursory examination of the room.
‘Did you check her calls?’ asked Noble, brandishing the bag.
‘We didn’t touch the phone,’ said Fred Blake, making the effort to speak.
‘No point anyway. Madam wouldn’t tell
‘What about her laptop?’
‘It’s in the case at the side of the bureau.’
‘Have you tried checking her emails?’ Brook asked. ‘Okay — you don’t know the password.’
‘Please take the laptop if it’ll help,’ Fred said.
‘We will.’
Brook glanced at the make-up bureau with its halo of naked light bulbs. ‘Any clothes or luggage missing?’
‘I wouldn’t know about that. It’s hard to keep up with madam’s wardrobe.’ Mrs Blake looked to her stricken husband who simply stared, ashen-faced, into the distance. ‘Fred? Anything missing?’
Fred Blake continued to stare until he became aware that his attention was needed, then he processed the question and looked up at Brook. ‘She had a small leather Louis Vuitton rucksack that she took everywhere. There may be a couple of T-shirts missing from her drawers. Some underwear too.’
‘What about her passport?’
‘Her passport?’
‘You told us before she had a passport,’ said Noble.
Fred nodded. ‘Becky wanted to go to Miami last year.’
‘So that’s where we went,’ put in Mrs Blake. Her husband shot her a spiteful glance.
‘So she’d had it a while,’ Brook said.
‘Over a year.’
‘Is it still here?’
‘She keeps it in there.’ Fred pointed to a drawer of her make-up bureau which Noble searched. The passport was missing. Fred was suddenly excited. ‘That’s good, isn’t it? She may have been planning to go abroad.’
‘She might,’ agreed Brook.
‘When was the last time you both saw Becky?’ asked Noble.
‘Last Friday,’ said Blake hesitantly. He looked at his wife who was putting a cigarette in her mouth. ‘Christy?’
‘Sounds about right,’ she replied with a shrug, rummaging for a lighter. ‘Before she went to the party at the gay boy’s house.’
‘His name’s Kyle,’ put in Blake, a pained expression on his face. ‘He’s a nice lad.’
‘How did she seem?’ asked Brook.
Fred Blake frowned at his wife as she lit up. ‘You shouldn’t smoke in here. You know how Becky hates it.’ Fred looked away as Christy exhaled, long and slow, into the bedroom.
‘Quiet, now you mention it,’ she said. ‘For her.’
‘And did she say anything which struck you as odd?’
‘Not to me.’ Christy turned to Fred, who shook his head.
‘What about money?’ asked Brook. ‘Did she have her own bank account?’
‘No need,’ said Christy.
‘Chris-ty,’ muttered Fred.
‘She was strictly a cash only girl, and with an ATM for a father she always had more than she needed. Didn’t she, darling?’ Her husband narrowed his eyes at her.
‘Did she ask for any money that Friday?’
‘Ask and ye shall receive,’ sneered Christy. ‘Whatever she wanted.’
‘For God’s sake, woman!’ spat Fred. ‘Becky could be hurt or even. .’ His head disappeared into a massaging hand. ‘She didn’t ask for money on Friday. She had enough for a taxi home but it’s not like she was going to a bar in town.’
‘What was she wearing?’ asked Brook.
‘Yeah, that was a bit weird, come to think of it,’ said Christy. ‘She went out in jeans and a sweatshirt.’
‘Colours?’
‘Black jeans and purple sweatshirt,’ said Fred.
‘And why was that weird?’ asked Brook.
