‘It’s a little embarrassing.’
‘Isaac, what do you mean?’
‘Our past history.’
‘How quaint,’ she replied, mocking him with fluttering eyelids and a coy smile.
‘I’m not sure your husband would want a past lover in his house.’
‘You mean the man who took my virginity.’
‘Did I?’
‘Of course you did, and as to being embarrassed, do you think I never slept with another man before I married my husband? I lived with his best man for six months before I started going out with him. It was even mentioned in the wedding speeches. Everyone thought it was hilarious.’
‘If you’re certain it’s alright.’
‘Of course it’s alright. Anyway, you wanted an update.’
‘What have you found?’
‘Marjorie Frobisher stayed at one of the hotels in Malvern. She had a wig on and her face concealed. The receptionist at the hotel identified her, recognised her even, although she didn’t like it and left soon after. She used a false name.’
‘Any ideas after that?’
‘That’s all there is. As to where she went?’
‘You don’t know?’ Isaac asked.
‘All the receptionist could tell us was that she took a taxi to Worcester. The driver dropped her off at the railway station. From there she could have gone anywhere.’
Isaac’s time in Worcester was at an end. It was not the function of a detective chief inspector to find out where the woman had gone. He realised they needed more help in the office.
He had only one more obligation. June Brown’s husband proved to be an excellent host, the meal was perfect, and the wine that Isaac had taken, ideal. His premonition about how awkward the situation would be was ill-founded. He left for London early the next morning.
***
Isaac arrived back before eight in the morning. He had purposely left early to avoid the traffic. Not that it made any difference, as there was early morning fog on the motorway. For half the distance his speed was almost down to a crawl. It was four and a half hours of stop-start driving. Meeting up with a past lover had left him reminiscing. He felt the need of a woman. Sophie would almost certainly come over that night if he gave her a call.
He had barely walked into the office – Farhan was already there – when his phone rang. ‘You’ve heard the news?’ It was his detective superintendent on the other end.
It was evident from Richard Goddard’s tone that there had been a development. ‘What’s happened?’ Isaac could see that an early get-together with Sophie was looking unlikely.
‘We’ve got a suspicious death.’
‘Marjorie Frobisher?’ Isaac asked.
‘It’s her brother. I heard ten seconds before you walked in,’ Farhan said.
‘I didn’t know she had a brother,’ Isaac said.
‘The fictitious one.’ Richard Goddard seemed excited.
‘Billy Blythe?’
‘That’s right. The actor who played him, Charles Sutherland.’
‘Do we have any details?’ Isaac asked.
‘Vague at the present moment. The body was found twenty minutes ago, at his hotel.’
‘I need to be over there with DI Ahmed,’ Isaac said.
‘The local police will be taking control.’
Isaac and Farhan left the office soon after. Isaac mulled over how this impacted on the missing woman but kept it to himself. He was still tired from the drive, and not in the mood to indulge in random conversation with Farhan, who looked excited, but distant.
The trip to the Savoy Hotel took twenty minutes. It was one of the best hotels in town, and Charles Sutherland’s suite was one of the best. The media was already setting up on the street outside. He intended to find out how the information regarding a minor celebrity had been leaked. It was regarded as a suspicious death, not a murder, and definitely not a free-for-all.
‘Farhan, what’s the matter?’ Isaac realised that something was troubling his colleague.
‘It’s my wife. She moved out, took the children.’
‘When was that?’
‘This morning, when I left the house early.’
‘But why?’
‘The normal. How I love my job more than her. How the children never see me.’
‘Doesn’t she realise how important our work is?’
‘She’s not rational. Mind you, if I had told her who the body is, then maybe she would have changed her mind.’
‘It’s hardly the basis for marriage, the machinations of a soap opera.’
‘Agreed, but she’s like so many others.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The separation of fact from fiction.’
‘I need you here now.’ Isaac realised that Farhan should be dealing with personal issues, but now there was a real case. He could not let him take time off.
‘I know, and besides, this is where I want to be.’
How many times had he heard it? Isaac thought. No wonder the marriage breakdown rate is so high when the spouse and the family become the lesser priority. He knew that Sophie was just a woman to spend time with, but Jess O’Neill may want a different kind of commitment, a commitment he was unable to give.
Downstairs, the hotel looked calm. Guests were checking in, checking out. The cafes and the restaurants were open; the people appeared to be oblivious to the death upstairs. How they could avoid the melee of media outside, he was not so sure, but some were probably used to media intrusion. He recognised a few famous faces as they moved through the foyer.
His train of thought was abruptly interrupted as they exited the lift on the top floor.
Outside the lift door, a well-presented fresh-faced police constable in uniform intercepted them. ‘Sirs, this area is closed off.’
‘Detective Chief Inspector Cook and Detective Inspector Ahmed,’ Isaac said as they both presented their identification badges.
Clearing the first obstacle, they walked to where the constable had directed them.
‘Yes, what can I do for you?’ A tall, red-faced man, who, at least to Farhan, looked in need of a healthy diet, stood in their way as they
