It was early evening when they left the hotel. He, feeling guilty that he had acted unprofessionally; she, elated in that she had experienced sex without money and had not needed to pretend. He knew his house that night was not going to feel so lonely; she, satisfied that she had found a man that she could love, a man her parents would approve of, a man who knew her secret.
Chapter 27
Early morning rush hour was not the best time to find a parking spot anywhere near Paddington Station. In the end, Wendy found a loading zone and put a police parking permit in the car window.
She knew a few delivery vehicle drivers would be cursing her – the bad language a certainty – but she had no option. Brian Gee’s information seemed important. She did not like using police privilege unless necessary.
‘I’ve found her.’ She had barely entered the room when Brian Gee came up to her, shook her warmly by the hand and announced his success.
‘Where?’
‘The photos you sent. We were able to correlate them against the people on the station around the time the train arrived.’
‘Was she wearing the same clothes?’
‘That’s what made it easy. We also managed to get a facial. It’s not crystal clear, but it’s okay. A new camera had just been installed, so it wasn’t yet choked with pollution.’
Wendy phoned Isaac with the news.
After the quick phone call, she turned her attention back to Brian Gee. ‘Positive ID?’
‘Ninety-five percent. That’s good enough for me.’ He offered her a cup of coffee, tepid, out of a machine in the corner. She realised that if she wanted a British Rail cup of tea she would have to go and see the station manager, which she intended to do before she left.
‘What else do you have?’
‘She was met by someone.’
‘Any idea who?’
‘What we can see is one person, slightly taller than her and wearing a thick coat and a baseball cap.’
‘Male or female?’
‘Judging by the way the person walked, I’d say it was a man.’
‘Any idea as to age, colour?’
‘I’ll give you copies of the video. Apart from male, thick coat, baseball cap, there’s not a lot more I can give you. We know they exited the station and headed in an easterly direction.’
‘Was she pleased to see the person?’
‘Yet again, you can make your own decision. She seemed to greet the man. After that, she can be seen walking at his side with his right hand holding onto her left arm. It’s difficult to tell if it was a friendly gesture. The station was very busy. Maybe he was just ensuring he did not lose her.’
She realised that she should pick up the video and head back to Challis Street at top speed and give the tape to Bridget, but she still had a cup of tea on her mind. Station Manager Broughton had the tea ready when she arrived, as well as a cheese and tomato sandwich. It was not stale. His office still had the unique smell she remembered from the previous day. It was homely and comfy, not like her home with her increasingly vague and complaining husband. She knew that one day she would need to consider placing him in a nursing home, maybe before she retired. What would she do then? Maybe travel, maybe take a course, maybe find someone else to keep her company, purely platonic? She could not see herself being on her own.
By the time she arrived back at the car, it had been four hours. The delivery driver trying to park, not intimidated by the official police sign, and not showing any respect for a woman, gave her a verbal dressing down.
‘You think just because you’re the police, you can fuckin’ park wherever you like.’ He was an uncouth man, heavily tattooed, and had the appearance of someone who belonged to a motorbike gang. The tee-shirt emblazoned with Harley Davidson – a testament to the fact.
‘You watch your mouth, or I’ll slap a ticket on your truck for a failed brake light.’
‘There ain’t no problem with my lights. I checked ’em this morning.’
‘There will be once I kick one of them out.’
‘That’s police harassment. I could have you nicked for that if I make an official complaint.’
Wendy, suitably angry, had seen it too many times. She knew that if she had been police and male, the irate truck driver would not have engaged in a slanging match, and he would have moderated his language. Female, police, middle-aged, and it was a different situation.
‘Okay, I’ll tell you what we do,’ she said. ‘I’ll kick out your brake light, maybe hit it with a jack handle for good measure.’
‘You do that!’
‘You can call over a policeman, or I can call one for you on my police radio.’
‘You do that.’
‘Once he arrives, I’ll show him my police ID, nice and shiny, and you can show him your truck’s registration.’
‘You’re threatening me.’ He did not seem as confident as before, and there were the parking fines to consider. He hadn’t paid them, and his driving licence had expired.
‘Threat? I don’t think so.’ She knew she had him on the defensive, realised that she should not have indulged in a verbal exchange on a busy street. After a congenial few hours at Paddington, this unpleasant foul-mouthed man had made her see red. Her temper had been a
