Bryant & May 08; Off the Rails

“And sometimes forgets about meeting you?” added May, gently.

“It’s happened before. But not this time, I’m sure of it. When I heard from him, he was definitely catching that train.” She checked her watch. “I’m due at a class.”

“I’ll walk down with you.”

The sound of The Avalanches playing over the roar of an engine outside sent Ruby to the landing window. “Here’s another one,” she told May. “Theo’s probably the richest guy in the whole of UCL. His father owns, like, half of Hertfordshire or something.”

“That would explain the car,” said May, impressed. Theo Fontvieille was driving a new red Porsche Carrera, a beacon of conspicuous consumption branded with the licence plate THEO 1. He was unfolding himself from the driver’s seat as May arrived back on the street.

“Theo, this is John May. He’s from – ”

“The Peculiar Crimes Unit,” May explained, holding out his hand. “We’ve met.”

“I thought you were a little too old to be a foot soldier. Peculiar Crimes Unit? What’s that?” The surname might have been French, but he had no trace of an accent. Although he shook hands, Fontvieille was clearly keen to get inside.

“It’s a specialist detection unit.”

“I don’t understand. Why are you here? Ruby, what have you been up to?” Although he could have been no older than twenty-one, Fontvieille had the patrician air of someone mature, confident and secure in his wealth. Tanned and moisturised, his long black hair sleekly groomed, he was dressed in a grey hooded top and jeans too well cut to be confused with the kind generally worn on the street. His clothes were bookended with a red silk scarf and red leather trainers that perfectly matched his car. He might have been a model or a city executive, except that there was a discordant note in his appearance that May couldn’t nail down.

“This young lady has lost a friend,” he said.

“What’s he talking about? Ruby, who have you lost?”

“Matt’s been missing since last night.”

“You know he doesn’t always come home.”

“He was supposed to be with me.” She was clearly uncomfortable arguing about a mutual friend in front of May.

“You’ve got to give the guy a bit of room to manoeuver, he’s really stressed out at the moment.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Theo, you never get worried about anything. You don’t have to worry.” It sounded like a put-down. She’s wrong, thought May, who had pinpointed what was bothering him. Theo Fontvieille looked as if he had not enjoyed a good night’s sleep in a week. Beneath the young man’s smooth tan were fault lines and shadows.

“I’ve got to get going,” said Theo. “I’m meeting Rajan, running late. Is he up in his room?”

“God, you guys hang out together every night – don’t you ever get tired of each other’s company?” She sounded jealous.

“Ask me in five years’ time, when we’re running the country. Nice to meet you again, Mr May – and Ruby, when you find Matt tell him he owes me fifty quid.” Theo swung a smart red leather case onto his shoulder and bounded up the stairs.

“Not the bookish type?” May suggested to Ruby.

“I’m sure he only attends UCL to annoy the rest of us, he makes it all seem so easy. He’ll go to an all-night party, then come back and knock out a paper that will have his lecturers mooning over him for weeks.”

“No Karma Bar logo,” May noted.

“Theo wouldn’t be seen dead sticking a cheap club advert on his fine Italian leather. I fear our common ways don’t appeal to him.” She hates him, realised May. Just because of his money, or is there something else? Perhaps that’s not hatred in her eyes, but something quite the opposite.

“All right,” he told her, “I’ll cut a deal with you. Keep your eyes open for any more of these stickers, and I’ll see if I can get you some information on Mr Hillingdon’s whereabouts today, to save you waiting for the regular police.”

“You could do that? I’d be super grateful. I wouldn’t have gone to the police if I wasn’t worried.” Ruby shook his hand. “He has – a history – of being found in unlikely places, rather the worse for wear.”

It had just begun to rain. Strange, thought May as he walked away along the glistening street, she showed little interest in why I had come to see her. She didn’t ask me anything. Presumably too preoccupied with the missing boyfriend. But then there’s the book…

He had seen a bright yellow paperback on her kitchen table, packed with bookmarks and Post-it notes. It had set him wondering if she had deliberately chosen to tell him lies.

May looked back up at the house, and thought he saw Ruby’s face at the rain-streaked second-floor window, staring blankly down at him. A moment later, it was gone.

? Off the Rails ?

22

The Ghost System

Late on Wednesday morning, the two elderly detectives stood in their usual positions, side by side, leaning on the balustrade of Waterloo Bridge, looking into the heart of the city. The clouds moved like freighters, flat-bottomed and dark, laden with incoming cargoes of rain. Bryant had ill-advisedly washed his favourite trilby after venturing into snowdrifts in an earlier case, and its brim had lost all shape. With his hands stuffed in the voluminous pockets of his ratty tweed overcoat and the backs of his trouser bottoms touching the pavement, he appeared to be vanishing entirely inside his clothes. It seemed that a breeze might come along and blow what was left of this bag of rags into the river.

May, on the other hand, stood with his back erect in a smart navy blue Savile Row suit, his blue silk tie knotted over a freshly pressed shirt, his white cuffs studded with silver links. As rain began to fall once more, he unfurled a perfect black umbrella and held it over them. Whenever May felt that his life lacked order, he redressed the imbalance by sprucing up.

It had commonly been noted by their partners that anyone becoming involved with one had to accept the priority of the other. This fact had resulted in two lifetimes of dissatisfying romantic attachments, but could not be helped. To remove either would have been like cutting away a supporting vine, and would have created a sense of misfortune in both that no woman would have been able to forgive herself for.

“Sorry to drag you down here,” said Bryant. “Old habits die hard. I needed to come and do some thinking. I was going to try the Millennium Bridge but there are too many tourists.”

“That’s okay.” May leaned forward to watch a police launch chug under an arch. “Brigitte called late last night. She wants me to visit her in Paris.”

“I bet she was drunk.”

“She was, a bit.”

“I hope you told her you’re in the middle of an important investigation.”

“I said I’d go if we could close the case and stabilise the Unit. But we’re not getting anywhere fast, are we, and unless something breaks – ”

“It will. If we fail the Taylor woman we’ll have struck out twice in a row. There won’t be a third chance. How did you get on with your student?”

“She thought I’d come to visit her because she’d reported her boyfriend going missing,” May explained. “Reckons he disappeared at King’s Cross station early this morning.”

Bryant’s ears pricked up. “Strange coincidence.”

“Most of the other students in the house had the same altered sticker on their bags. And I saw something in her flat that bothered me.”

“Oh, snooping around, were you?”

“Hardly. It was on the kitchen table, in plain sight. A pocket guide to the haunted stations of the London Underground called Mind the Ghosts, with her name pencilled inside. It resonated a little