Deity

Still Rifkind eyed him, saying nothing. Finally he shrugged. ‘It gets me from A to B,’ he said, with a smugness that unexpectedly raised Brook’s hackles. ‘How can I help?’

‘I’d like to hear about your relationship with Adele Watson.’

The double-edged nature of the request gave Rifkind pause but he sidestepped the trap without difficulty. ‘Certainly. She’s a very able girl, very bright — my star Literature student, in fact.’ He looked coolly at Brook. ‘She’s going to Cambridge next year if she achieves her expected grades. And thanks to me, she will.’

Brook smiled politely to crank up Rifkind’s discomfort. ‘And she’s a very pretty girl.’

‘I wouldn’t know about that, Inspector. I’m a happily married man.’

‘Not according to her diary.’ Brook paused. ‘Unless Adele’s having an affair with another Adam Rifkind who teaches here.’

Rifkind seemed suddenly out of breath. The walls finally crumbled and he looked around to be sure no one was watching his carefully constructed self-assurance being dismantled. He made to speak but stopped himself. At last he managed, ‘She’s eighteen. We. . didn’t do anything illegal.’

‘That’s reassuring,’ answered Brook. ‘But it may not tally with the Sexual Offences Act, Section 16, subsection (c) on Abuse of a Position of Trust.’ He smiled again to quicken Rifkind’s heart-rate. ‘Where is she?’

Rifkind’s head snapped back. ‘I’ve no idea. You must believe me. I didn’t even know she was missing until now.’

‘You haven’t tried to contact her?’

‘No. We. . broke it off.’

‘When?’

‘Over a week ago. And I haven’t seen her since this time last Thursday.’

Brook nodded. ‘So she dumped you.’

‘No!’ exclaimed Rifkind indignantly. ‘I took the decision that we should. .’ He glared at Brook.

‘Was she upset?’ asked Brook.

‘Why are you asking, if you know already?’ Then Rifkind closed his eyes in self-reproach. ‘You haven’t read her diary, have you?’ he added bitterly.

‘I never said I had,’ replied Brook, with an unnerving grin. Normally he disliked applying the thumb-screws, but he’d taken an instant dislike to Rifkind. He reminded Brook of Terri’s stepfather, Tony Harvey-Ellis, the smooth- talking Public Relations manager who had taken Terri’s virginity when she was just fifteen.

‘Listen, Inspector-’

‘Mr Rifkind. I don’t have any evidence of wrongdoing yet. Right now I’m only concerned with Adele’s whereabouts.’

‘I. . I don’t know.’

‘Any friends or old boyfriends she might turn to for solace?’

‘I don’t think so. Adele is a one-off. She prefers her own company.’ He smiled weakly. ‘We writers usually do.’

‘If she gets in touch. .’

‘I’ll let you know immediately, I promise,’ the man replied hurriedly.

Brook nodded. Rifkind was scared. That’s where he wanted him. ‘And your Porsche. .’

‘What about it?’

‘It might be a good idea to leave it at home for a while.’

‘Why?’

‘Jim Watson saw his daughter getting out of a Porsche a couple of nights before she disappeared. If he turns up at college. .’

Rifkind nodded. ‘Ade was scared of her father.’

‘Was she? Any idea why?’

‘He could be very jealous of anyone seeing her. She never told him we were,’ Rifkind assayed a vague hand gesture, ‘you know.’

‘Quite. Who’s Miranda? A friend of Adele’s?’

‘Miranda? I don’t know. I never heard her mention the name.’

‘She wrote Miranda in a Poe anthology left in her room.’

‘Oh, she’s the main character in a film we started watching last week. There’s a version of a quote from Poe at the start. Typical of Adele to pick up on that.’

‘Picnic at Hanging Rock?’

‘Right. In fact, Adele and a few others were so taken with it they stayed through lunch to watch the rest.’

‘Others?’

‘Fern, Becky, Kyle and Rusty.’ Rifkind’s mouth fell open. ‘Oh my God.’

‘And what happens to Miranda — in the film?’

Rifkind was puzzled for a moment then said, ‘She disappears.’

Brook nodded. ‘Did Adele suggest watching it?’

‘Er, no, it was Rusty, Russell Thomson. He’s the film buff. Otherwise Wilson would’ve had us watching Saw IV.’

‘Wilson Woodrow?’

‘That’s right.’ Rifkind managed a smile at last. ‘Not the sharpest knife in the box. There was a row about it and Wilson stormed out after having a go at Kyle.’

‘Why did he have a go at Kyle?’

‘Why do bullies have a go at anyone?’ Rifkind shrugged. ‘Anyway, it was Rusty’s turn to choose so we watched Picnic.’

‘I see. One final thing — which way to the Principal’s office?’ Rifkind’s face fell. Brook smiled, but this time felt a twinge of guilt. ‘I’ll need to inform him or her about the inquiry.’

Brook dropped Yvette Thomson back at her house only when he was sure she was okay. She had no relatives and few acquaintances who could stay with her, and she spurned any attempt by Brook to get a FLO to stay with her. Instead, Brook took her phone number and promised to call round at the earliest opportunity.

He paused over the next question. ‘Have you something with Russell’s DNA on it? A comb maybe.’

She looked at the floor. ‘In case you find. .’ Then: ‘No, he doesn’t use a comb.’

‘It’s just procedure,’ said Brook hastily. ‘Nothing to worry about, only I noticed there was only one toothbrush in the bathroom.’

She looked at him curiously for a second then bounded up the stairs. She returned empty-handed. ‘It’s my new one. Rusty’s toothbrush has gone.’

‘Maybe that’s a good sign,’ said Brook quietly.

Her face brightened. ‘Yes.’

‘Never mind. It’s possible Forensics will find something in his room, if you could keep it locked. .’

Brook pulled the BMW on to Leopold Street a little after midday and walked into the bare outer office of the funeral parlour. He pushed a button on the counter then turned to look at the derelict house across the road. Everything seemed quiet.

A tall, stooped man glided from beyond a curtain with a sympathetic smile already fixed on his face. He looked up and down Brook’s physique in a flash. Slab happy.

‘Welcome to Duxbury and Duxbury. I’m Lionel Duxbury. How may I be of service?’ he asked in a voice of pure treacle.

Brook held his warrant card in front of the man’s hooked nose. He gazed balefully at it.

‘Inspector Brook. Why, yes, we currently offer a ten per cent discount for all members of the emergency services — even the ambulance crews and paramedics who attempt to whittle away at our profit margins.’ He allowed himself a self-congratulatory simper. ‘Your loved one would be in good hands for the final journey.’

‘I’m only interested in the corpses you process.’

‘I’m afraid we don’t cater for such appetites.’

‘Knock it off. You were contacted a few days ago by DS Morton, Derby CID, about recent employee