His wife hung up; he went back to checking the house. The first floor revealed nothing of interest, only two bedrooms and a small study that the man had used for storing his golf clubs, a few empty suitcases.
He ascended the second flight of stairs and entered the main bedroom. Larry thought the man’s choice of decor was strange. Apart from a double bed in the centre of the room, there was not much else except for a zebra skin on the wall, one or two pictures of men in military uniform, although they looked old, and a table on one side of the bed. He opened the drawer of the table. Inside were a photo album, a mobile phone, and a list of names on a piece of paper. Larry took a picture of the items in situ. He then removed them and placed them in evidence bags. He’d get Bridget to check through them at Challis Street.
He looked into another room adjoining the main bedroom. He found the man’s passport, a magnetic ID card, and a bank statement. He briefly looked at the balance on the statement, let out a sigh when he saw the zeros at the end of the total amount.
***
Gwen Barrow had not expected to receive a phone call. She had heard the man’s breathing on the other end. There had been phone calls in the past when no one had spoken, but that was a long time ago, long before she had moved in with Ed. Since then, her life had stabilised, and she could admit to being happy, although the doubt over her first husband always lingered.
He had indicated on a couple of occasions that his work was at a critical stage and that he was not sure what to do. She had asked him, even once after they had downed a good bottle of red together, but he had not wanted to say more. ‘It’s best if you don’t know,’ he had said.
Gwen did not know why the phone call had reminded her of her dead husband, but it had. She shivered at the thought of it, as if a ghost had arisen.
She looked at the number on her phone; it meant nothing to her. She dialled it: busy tone. She did not know why she did not mention it to Ed when he came in later.
The death of her first husband had troubled her for a long time after the police officer had stood at the door to inform her of his disappearance. She remembered that Ed was the first one from the department where he had worked who had come over to offer his condolences. It was ironic that the two men, her two husbands, had been such great friends. One was academic and intense, the other an able administrator, although not with the same intellect, and one was dead, the other very much alive.
It was strange, she thought, how life turns out. Her daughter had struggled at school for many years, had drifted into alcohol and recreational drugs and bad men, but now she was married and sensible, holding down a good job. Malcolm’s death had come as a great shock to both mother and daughter, and that it had been suicide when there had been no reason.
He had phoned her two hours before to tell her that he loved her, always would, and that he would be keeping a watch out for her and their daughter. And then he was gone, apart from a suicide note she received in the mail.
Ed had been there from the start, although it was sometime before they became lovers, and then husband and wife. He had proven himself to be a good substitute father in accepting her child with Malcolm, so much so that Ed had walked her daughter down the aisle when she had married.
And now a phone call, the breathing on the other end so recognisable, yet impossible. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, realised that it was fanciful make-believe. Anyway, she had Ed.
***
Two constants remained in Big Greg’s mind: love and hate. He knew that the hatred for others could not be allowed to destroy the love he felt for his wife and his daughter. But he was aware that the path he was inexorably marching down would threaten that love, possibly exclude some of those he hated.
Big Greg wondered if Ed’s marriage to Gwen had been a way for him to keep watch on her, not believing that he had walked out into that cold sea and drowned. It had seemed possible that his fears about Ed had been true at first, but now he could see the affection in the man for the two people that he cared about most in the world. They were within touching distance and he could not touch.
It troubled him greatly. In all the years since he had been declared missing, presumed dead, he had not felt the warmth of a woman alongside him. Now with his fitness regained, he felt the need. He considered an escort; there were plenty available, even the woman at the hostel had been one, he knew. He had seen her accosting men on the street, her dress slit high on one side, her breasts protruding out of her top. Her transformation into a decent citizen had been remarkable, almost as good as his, but she had not murdered anyone; she was free to come and go as she pleased, whereas he had to hide in the shadows.
Not that he begrudged her. After all, he could have just given them the solution that they wanted, that Ed had wanted,
