comfortably into motherhood, surprising most who knew her, including her husband. She'd met Cole on a dozen or so occasions, mostly police functions when Cole used to go to them. Her eyes, like only an older woman's could, promised everything and nothing at all. She flirted and he let her. It was all very cosy, like an afternoon tea dance without the afters. Safe and easy and none of it serious. At the door she gave him a decorous little hug and her perfume touched a memory.
“Rick, it's been a long, long time.”
She was warm and familiar. It took him a moment to adjust. To remember that beneath it all she was as cold as the rest of them. That once upon a time she'd had an affair and left her husband devastated. “Too long, Janet. You're looking good.”
“Better than good. Take another look.”
She gave him a little twirl.
“Agreed. How's the baby.”
“The baby's name is Lucy and she's good too. If you're very, very quiet you can take a peep into her bedroom. That'll be a treat for you. Come on in.” She fumbled for his hand, more of a caress really and, rubbing his hand all the way, led him into the dining room. Cole heard voices before the door was opened so finding another guest was hardly a surprise. Discovering that it was DC Anian Stanford definitely was.
She stood by the CD, glass in hand, while Butler knelt searching through a pile of discs. In place of her working clothes were black jeans, brown vest and sneakers that left a strip of olive instep. There was nothing under the vest. Her nipples stuck out like a couple of filter-tips that looked good enough to smoke. Her hair was down, black as tar and elbow length. He noticed for the first time how tall and skinny she was.
Janet spread her hand and said matter-of-factly, “You know Anian?”
Cole nodded briefly. Anian returned his acknowledgement with a quick nervous smile.
Butler found his CD and waved the disc toward his guest. “Guv.” “Sam.”
The DS struggled to his feet. “Drink?”
“Good idea.”
Leaving Anian to load the music, they moved to the drinks cabinet, out of earshot, and while he poured, Butler said, “Anian's working the case with me.”
“Right.”
“You don't mind?”
“You should have mentioned it, that's all.”
Butler tut-tutted the idea. “Didn't seem important.”
“She's not my type.”
Butler fell in. “Colour? You?”
“Figure. She hasn't got one.”
“Nor have the fashion models. It’s the fashion.'
“I’m an old-fashioned guy.”
Butler smiled and raised his glass. “To old times, Guv.”
Cole nodded. “I'll go with that.” He emptied half his glass. Butler held on to the bottle, waiting, then topped up as Red Red Wine filled the room.
“I want her to be in on this. She's done most of the legwork.” “Talking shop. Janet will love you.”
“I've primed her. We'll get shot of it while she's serving up. That all right with you?”
Cole shrugged and wondered whether he'd made a mistake. He was already feeling the limb that he knew Butler was going to put him on. The women were on the sofa, drinking Jacob’s Creek and jabbering like women do. Their conversation ended abruptly as the men approached.
“I've been telling her all about you, Rick. Everything. She's been at Hinckley… How long?”
“Almost a year.”
“And you've barely said hello. That's disgraceful. It really, really is.”
“Sweetheart,” Butler put in. “It's not like that.”
“Yes it is. It's exactly like that. Give a man rank and you create a monster.” She turned to Anian. “The days have gone when men were men and women were proud of them. Agreed?”
Anian's laugh was forced and apprehensive.
Cole caught Janet's exaggerated look of indignation and laughed out loud.
Janet moved into the kitchen. Butler topped the glasses again before he turned to Cole.
“So how was Ticker?”
Butler shrugged weakly. “Anian held her own.”
Cole glanced at the girl and murmured, “I expect she did.” Butler put in quickly, “Jack's not interested, told me to put it to bed.”
“So what's the problem?”
“The problem, Guv, is that three of the four women are pregnant. What are the odds on that happening? It'd make the lottery look good. On our patch we've got four missing women, forget the kids, the runaways. Just concentrate on adult females. We've got four.” “And three are pregnant?”
“Right,” Butler said earnestly. “And statistically, pregnant women – those with a partner – don’t take off. Single, yes. They run from parents or the perceived shame. And the forties and fifties, they take off after the kids have left, looking for the last-chance saloon, looking for something better or someone better, or maybe they’re wanting space again, I don’t know. But not when they're pregnant. Not unless the father lives someplace else.”
“How pregnant?”
“They range from a few weeks to four months. Helen Harrison only just found out. You know that.”
“And do they play around?”
Anian raised her eyebrows and shook her head.
“It's a fair question,” Cole said sharply. “You're a copper, not a social worker. Coppers can't afford the luxury of being politically correct or non-judgemental. A spade is a spade and around here, like everywhere else, married women do fuck around.”
She didn't like it but she nodded.
Butler didn’t like it either for it touched an open wound. He sighed and said, “You tell me about Helen. But the others, who knows? How the hell do you tell? My guess would be that they don't, play around that is, but what do I know?”
Cole smiled at the detective sergeant's wry humour. Selfdeprecation suited the worry lines on his face.
“Does Jack know about the pregnancies?”
Butler shook his head. “Until we knew about Helen it was only two out of three and it didn’t even register. Two’s a coincidence but three’s a wake-up call.”
Cole said, “So, talk to me. What do you want?”
Anian sat listening intently, steadying her glass on the arm of the sofa, her fierce eyes more on the DI than the DS.
Butler spread his hands. “I'm in a fix. I've got a gut feeling about it, Guv.”
Cole nodded. “Get on to the index and spread out. Go back a few years and find some common ground, anything. There might be some cold files knocking around. If you come up with something then stick it under Jack's nose. If he's not interested then come back to me. But it won't come to that. If you find something then he'll be interested. But you should have mentioned the pregnancy connection. It seems pretty relevant, particularly in view of your earlier comments. You’ve been looking for a connection and you’ve got one.”
Anian said abruptly, “So what are we looking for? Prenatal clinics? Marie Stopes? There’s an awful lot of places around here where you can turn up with five-hundred quid and an overnight bag and get in line with the girls from Dublin?”
The DI glanced at Butler. “I think that might be jumping the gun. But it might be worth having another look at the odd one out. Clutching at straws, but that's what we do best. If you can eliminate her then all your girls are pregnant. I’m still not sure it will get you anywhere. Jack does have a point. To be honest, pregnancies or not, I'm leaning towards him on this. You're not looking for a villain here, you're looking for a crime. At the moment you haven't got one and we’ve got plenty of others to concentrate on. It can't go on indefinitely.”
“Christ, Rick, it was you who asked me to see Ticker!”
