was no good. I couldn't think of any possible way of telling him anything like the truth.
'It doesn't matter. It's not a big deal, Arnold. It's only a cat. I just want to know where you sent them.'
'There's pet shops,' he said. 'Ads in the paper. That's the best way.'
'Oh,' I said. Was this it? The blind alley.
'I just sent them round the corner.'
I bit my lip and tried to stay calm as if it was all terribly unimportant. 'That sounds good,' I said. 'Did you hear back from her?'
'I just sent her on.'
'So she probably got her cat, then.'
'I dunno. I didn't hear back.'
'So it sounds like the place for me,' I said. 'Sounds like a good place for cats.'
'I dunno about that,' he said. 'It's just a place round the corner. They sell all different stuff. Christmas trees at Christmas. I bought logs there for my fire. He dropped them round. He had some kittens. I didn't know if they'd gone.'
'What's its name, Arnold?'
'Hasn't got a name. It was a greengrocer's and then they put up the rent and then it was different shops, and then it was Vic Murphy.'
'Vic Murphy,' I said.
'That's right. I sent them to Vic. But the shop still says Greengrocer's on the sign. Well, not Greengrocer's. Buckley's Fruit and Vegetables.'
'How do I get there?'
'It's just a couple of minutes' walk.'
But it took more than a couple of minutes for Arnold to explain the route to me and then I left him there with his cats and his baffled expression. He must have still been thinking about the photograph and wondering what on earth I was up to. I glanced at my watch. It was just after six thirty. I wouldn't do anything reckless. I would just go and have a look from a safe distance. I looked like a different person. It would be fine. Still, I found it difficult to breathe. My chest felt tight.
To get there, I had to walk up a long, dull street, full of houses that had been boarded up. I knew the street. At first I thought a part of my lost memory was returning, but then I saw the street sign. Tilbury Road. It was from here that my car had been towed away. I walked in a daze of dread and unreality.
It was a row of shabby shops in a mainly residential street. There was a launderette, a food shop with vegetables and fruit on racks outside, a betting shop and the Buckley's Fruit and Vegetables shop. It was closed. Very closed. Green metal shutters were pulled down in front of it and looked as if they hadn't been opened for weeks. Posters had been plastered on it and names and insignia sprayed across. I stepped close up and pushed uselessly against it. There was a letter-box. I looked through and I could see a large pile of mail inside on the floor. I walked into the food shop next door. Behind the counter were two Asian men. The younger of them was filling the cigarette rack. The other was older, white-bearded, reading the evening newspaper.
'I'm looking for Vic Murphy,' I said to him.
He shook his head. 'Don't know him,' he said.
'He used to run the shop next door. The one selling logs and Christmas trees.'
The man gave a shrug. 'He's gone. Shut up.'
'Do you know where?'
'No. It's a rubbish shop. Different people come but they all end up closing down.'
'It's really important I find Vic Murphy,' I said.
The men grinned at each other. 'Owe you money?'
'No,' I said.
'I think he went without paying a few bills. A few of them came round after him. But he was long gone.'
'So there's no way of tracking him down?'
Another shrug. 'Not unless you want to ask the bloke who moved his stuff for him.'
'Who's that?'
That'd be George.'
'Have you got his number?'
'No. I know where he lives, though.'
'Can you tell me?'
'Baylham Road. Number thirty-nine, I reckon.'
'What was Vic Murphy like?'
'Pretty weird,' the man said. 'But you've got to be pretty weird to run a shop there. I mean, logs and Christmas trees. I reckon he just got a batch of logs and wanted to flog them and move on.'
'Did he have any cats?'
'Cats?'
'I want to buy a cat.'
'You want a pet shop, love.'
'I heard that Vic Murphy sold cats.'
'I don't know. He may have had a cat. There's always cats around. But you never know who they belong to, do you?'
'I've never really thought about it,' I said.
'They like whoever feeds them, cats.'
'Really?' I said.
'Not like dogs. You'd be better off with a dog. A dog's a real friend.'
'I'll bear it in mind.'
'Protection as well.'
'Yes.'
'I don't think you'll get your money back.'
'What?'
'From that Vic Murphy.'
'I already told you, he doesn't owe me money.'
'That's what the other one said. They say they're friends. Don't want to scare him off.'
I took my photograph of Jo out of my pocket.
'Was this girl one of them?' I asked.
The man looked at the picture. 'She's a woman,' he said.
'That's right.'
'They were all men. Except you.'
Twenty-seven
I set off once more. People had left their offices now and were trudging home through the cold, dark streets. Men and women with their heads down against the wind, just thinking about being some place warm. I wasn't thinking about anything except getting the address. I knew I was no longer following in Jo's footsteps and my own. At the same time everything had been so tantalizingly close, and I was grimly determined to follow the last lead.
A van roared past, splashing icy mud from the puddles in the road over me. I cursed and wiped the mud from my face. Perhaps I should just go home? Where was home? I'd have to go back to Sadie's. Except I simply couldn't bear the thought of turning up there again, coming full circle and ending up right back at the nightmarish beginning, with nothing achieved except dread, fear, danger, deceit.
I took Ben's mobile out of my pocket and held it for a minute, standing still in the middle of the pavement while people surged round me. I turned it on. There were twelve new messages and I played them back. Three were to Ben, from people I'd never heard of. Eight were from Ben to me, each sounding more frantic than the one before. The eighth just said, 'Abbie.' That was all. 'Abbie.' Like someone calling to me from a long way off.
There was another message to me, from Cross. 'Abbie,' he said, in a stern voice. 'Listen to me. I have just spoken to Mr. Brody, who seems very concerned about your whereabouts. Can I suggest to you that, at the very least, you let us know where you are and that you are safe? Please call me as soon as you get this message.' There
