Law,” he told her. “Guv told me to look into the Maiden girl's doings in town.”
Barbara stopped typing. “And?”
“She dropped out.”
“She dropped out of law college?”
“That's how it looks.” Nicola Maiden, he told her, had apparently dropped out of law college on the first of May, approaching exam time. She'd done it responsibly, making appointments to see all the appropriate instructors and administrators before leaving. Several of them had tried to talk her out of it-she'd been near the top of her class and they'd considered it madness to leave when her successful future in law was assured-but she'd been politely adamant. And she'd disappeared.
“Muffed her exams?” Barbara asked.
“Didn't ever take them. Left before she laid eyes on them.”
“Was she scared? Developing nerves like her dad? Getting ulcers? Losing sleep? Realising she'd have to swot and wasn't up to the challenge?”
“Decided she just didn't fancy the law, was what she told her personal tutor.”
She'd been working for eight months part-time at a firm in Not-ting Hill called MKR Financial Management, Nkata went on. Most of the law students did that sort of thing: worked part-time during the day to support themselves, taking instruction at the college in the late afternoons and at night. She'd been offered a full-time placement at the Notting Hill firm, and as she liked the work, she decided to take it. “And that was that,” Nkata said. “No one at the college heard a word from her since.”
“So what was she doing in Derbyshire if she'd taken a full-time position in Notting Hill?” Barbara asked. “Was she having a holiday first?”
“Not 'ccording to the guv, and this is where it starts getting dodgy. She was working for a solicitor on a summer job, getting ready for the future and all that bit. That's why he put me onto the College of Law in the first place.”
“So she's employed in finance in London but takes a summer job doing law in Derbyshire?” Barbara clarified. “That's a new one on me. Does the inspector know she left law college?”
“Haven't rung him yet. I wanted to have a chat with you first.”
Barbara felt a rush of pleasure at this remark. She shot Nkata a look. As always, his face was ingenuous, pleasant, and perfectly professional. “Should we ring him, then? The inspector, I mean.”
“Let's chew on it a bit.”
“Right. Okay. Well, forget what she was doing in Derbyshire for the moment. The London bit at MKR Financial Management must've brought her some decent dosh, right? Because she wouldn't have been hurting for it at the end of the day had she stayed in law, so why drop out of law college unless there was some decent-and immediate-lolly involved? How does all that sound?”
“I'll go with it for now.”
“Okay. So did she need cash quick? And if so, why? Was she making a big purchase? Paying off a debt? Taking a trip? Wanting to live an easier life?” Barbara thought about Terry Cole and added with a snap of her fingers, “Ah. How about being blackmailed by someone? By a London someone who zipped up to Derbyshire wanting to know why her payment was late?”
Nkata flipped his hand back and forth, his who-knows gesture. “Could just be that the MKR gig looked more exciting than a life of wig-wearing at the Old Bailey. Not to mention more profitable in the long run.”
“What did she do for MKR, exactly?”
Nkata referred to his notes. “Money management trainee,” he said.
“Trainee? Come on, Winston. She couldn't've dropped out of law college for that.”
“Trainee's where she started round October last year. I'm not saying that's where she ended up.”
“But then, what was she doing in Derbyshire working for a solicitor? Had she changed her mind about the law? Was she going to go back to it?”
“If she did, she never told the college.”
“Hmm. That's odd.” As she considered the apparent contradictions in the dead girl's behaviour, Barbara reached for her packet of Players, saying, “Mind if I do a fag, Winnie?”
“Not in my breathing zone.”
She sighed and settled for a stick of Juicy Fruit, which she found in her shoulder bag adhered to a stub from her local cinema. She picked off the thin shreds of cardboard and folded the gum into her mouth. “Right. So what else do we know?”
“She left her digs.”
“Why wouldn't she, if she was up in Derbyshire for the summer?”
“I mean she left them permanently. Just like she left the college.”
“Okay. But that doesn't sound like news from the burning bush.”
“Hang on, then.” Nkata reached in his pocket and brought forth another Opal Fruit. He unwrapped it and tucked the sweet into the pocket of his cheek. “The college had her address-this is the old one-so I went there and had a chat with the landlady. In Islington. She had a bed-sit.”
“And?” Barbara encouraged him.
“She moved house-the girl, not the landlady-when she left law college. This was on the tenth of May. No notice given. Just packed her belongings, left behind an address in Fulham to send the post on, and vanished. Landlady wasn't happy about that. She wasn't happy about the row either.” Nkata smiled as he offered this last bit of information.
Barbara acknowledged the manner in which her colleague had played out the bits and pieces he'd gathered by cocking a finger at him and saying, “You rat. Give me the rest, Winston.”
At which Nkata chuckled. “Some bloke and her. They went at it like paddies in the peace talks, landlady said. This was on the ninth.”
“The day before she moved house?”
“Right.”
“Violence?”
“No, just shouting. And some nasty language.”
“Anything we can use?”
“Bloke said, ‘I won't have it. I'll see you dead before I'll let you do it.’”
“Now,
He said, “But it's something to note.”
“P'rhaps. Or not.” Barbara considered what he'd told her earlier. She said, “But if she moved house right after the threat, why'd the murder come along so much later?”
“If she moved house to Fulham and then left town, he'd have to track her down,” Nkata pointed out. Then he said, “What'd you get at this end?”
Barbara told him what she'd gathered from her conversations with Mrs. Baden and Cilia Thompson. She concentrated on Terry's source of income and on the contrasting descriptions of him as provided by his flatmate and his landlady. “Cilia says he never sold a thing and wasn't likely to, and I wouldn't disagree. So then, how did he support himself?”
Nkata thought about this, moving his sweet from one side of his mouth to the other. He finally said, “Let's phone the guv,” and he went to Lynley's desk, where he punched in the number. In a moment the connection went through and he had Lynley on the inspector's mobile. He said, “Hang on,” and punched another button on the phone. Over the speaker, Barbara heard Lynley's pleasant baritone saying, “What'Ve we got so far, Winnie?”
Just the sort of thing he would have said to her. She got up and strode to the window. There was nothing to see but Tower Block, of course. It was just something to do.
Winston quickly brought Lynley up to speed on Nicola Maiden's abrupt departure from the College of Law, on her employment at MKR Financial Management, on her moving house without giving notice, on the row that preceded her moving house, and on the particular threat to her life that had been overheard.
“There's apparently a lover in London,” Lynley said in reply. “Upman's given us that. But not a word about her having left law college.”
“Why'd she keep it a secret?”
