his wife fussed with the cushions and smoothed her dress, as if an important visitor were about to walk in.
The expectation was so strong inside the room that Fry felt obliged to get out of her chair to look out of the window. She half-expected to see Emma herself standing in the drive, two years older than her photos, but restored to living flesh and still wearing the blue jacket and jeans that Fry had so often seen mentioned in interview reports. But it wasn’t Emma Renshaw. Instead, it was a pale woman in a green jacket.
‘Who was that?’ she said, when Howard returned.
‘Gail Dearden. She had some news.’
‘Oh?’
‘Another sighting.’
190
‘Of what?’
‘Of who/ Sarah corrected her with a smile. ‘Gail helps us to collect cuttings for the album.’
‘What album is this?’ said Fry, with a sinking feeling.
The album was sitting right there on a bookshelf. It was a thick volume with heavy blue covers that had been well-thumbed. Howard picked it up almost reverentially and passed it to her, with a glance at Sarah for her approval.
Reluctantly, Fry opened the album and glanced at the first few pages. She had been right to be apprehensive. A few minutes ago, she had casually remarked that the Renshaws couldn’t keep up with every single missing or homeless girl in the world. Mrs Renshaw had said that they could try. And boy, how they were trying.
‘Take it away with you for a while,’ said Sarah. ‘There are plenty of possibilities for you there, I think.’
Back at the station in West Street, DC Gavin Murfin was watching the TV news with two other detective constables. They were waiting to see an interview with DCI Kessen about the Neil Granger enquiry.
‘What’s all the interest?’ said Ben Cooper, draping his jacket over a chair.
‘We’ve got a bet on about how many times he states the bleedin’ obvious/ said Murfin. ‘I’m backing him for a full half-dozen.’
‘Oh. Well, for goodness’ sake, don’t let Diane catch you.’
‘Nan. She’s miles away. She’s gone to see the Renshaws again. They’ll be skipping happily through Wonderland together for a while yet.’
‘Well, be discreet, Gavin.’
‘Hey, here he comes/ said Murfin. ‘Somebody get a notebook out and write them down.’
‘The murder of a young man is totally unacceptable/ said DCI Kessen from the screen.
There you go!’ said Murfin. ‘That’s a cracking start. In fact, I think it should count as two.’
‘No way/ said one of the other DCs.
‘Well, no worries. He’s got plenty of time, like.’
‘The police will be taking measures to identify the person responsible for this crime.’
‘Two!’
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‘And we’re hoping to get the tuii cooperation of the public in this matter.’
Three!’
‘Hold on.’
‘That’s obvious, isn’t it?’
‘Not to the public.’
‘True, my son. But we’re not the public, are we? If I was having a bet with the general public, it’d be different, like.’
‘Make it half a point.’
‘Give over.’
‘Shh!’
‘Neil Granger’s family and friends are very distressed,’ DCI Kessen was saying, ‘and everyone who knew him will be saddened by what has happened.’
Tour. And five,’ said Murfin. That’s my boy. Now see him go for the big finish.’
‘We’re keeping an open mind on the motive for this crime.’
‘No,’ said the DC. ‘Not that one.’
‘Mmm.’
‘But we’d very much like to hear from anyone who was in the vicinity of Withens Moor on Friday night or early Saturday morning.’
‘I hope you’re not going to let me down, sir,’ said Murfin. There’s a pint of beer riding on this.’
‘He’s not going to do it/ said the DC. ‘Start getting your money out, Gavin.’
‘A young man is dead.’
‘Yes! I knew you could do it. You beauty! What a finish! Here’s Detective Chief Inspector Oliver Kessen to talk about the progress the police are making in the enquiry into the murder of twenty two-year-old Neil Granger, “A young man is dead,” says Mr Kessen. What a genius!’
