‘But how?’
‘Marion Robertson. She’s admitted it to Olivia.’
‘Has she given my name?’
‘I’ve no idea. I’m heading over to see her right now. Olivia obviously had a contactable phone number. How about you?’
‘I changed it. You know that. I gave you the new number.’
‘Marion Robertson doesn’t have your contact number. How about an address?’
‘No, although she knows I work in the city. I suppose they could find me.’
‘Let’s hope not. It’s best for you not to worry. I’ll see what I can do to protect the two of you.’
***
Bridget was in a talkative mood when Wendy entered her office, clutching the hard disk with the footage of Marjorie Frobisher at Paddington Station. Wendy was still a little miffed after her argument with the van-driving lout. A cup of tea, not as good as British Rail, soon calmed her down. Wendy assumed that Bridget’s computer set up was not as good as Brian Gee’s, but then she knew little about such matters, could barely write an email, and her typing skills were definitely one finger at a time. She had asked Bridget how she managed to type so quickly, barely looking at the keyboard, her eyes focussed on a monitor to the right of the laptop. Bridget said it was easy. Ten lessons to learn how to break the bad typing habits, and then learn the basics, centre line on the keyboard, first finger of each hand on the raised bumps on the F and the J, left hand F, right hand J.
The teacher at the local college had explained that the two letters formed the reference point. Wendy had repeatedly tried, even drove her husband crazy as she laboured away at night trying to get the hang of it, but the habit was too firmly entrenched. She gave up after six weeks and went back to banging the keyboard. Besides, if it became difficult, there was always Bridget.
‘It’s not very clear,’ Bridget said. She had ordered in some cakes, Wendy’s favourite. There goes the diet, Wendy thought. Not that she would ever have dieted, but it was always good to believe it was possible.
‘The man she met?’ Wendy asked.
‘His complexion looks on the dark side, but I’m not sure if that is the camera or the lighting.’
‘Can’t you reference it off Marjorie Frobisher?’
‘Are you certain it’s her? With those sunglasses on, it’s hard to tell.’
‘Almost one hundred per cent.’
‘It’s not going to be easy to follow her down the street.’
‘With all those cameras?’
‘That’s not the problem. It’s the software and the time delays in accessing the film. There’ll be a backup server somewhere; it will have been recorded. May take some time.’
‘We don’t have the luxury of time.’
Bridget phoned for some more food to be brought in. ‘It’s going to be a long day, maybe night. Are you up to it?’ she asked Wendy.
‘Not a problem. I’ll keep you fed.’
‘Slave driver,’ Bridget joked. Wendy knew her husband would be complaining. Tough, she thought. This was more interesting.
Chapter 28
Isaac told Farhan that he was a bloody fool and should have known better. ‘She is a witness, maybe more involved than we believe.’
‘I met both of them, separate occasions,’ Farhan said.
‘I know that.’
‘I kept clear of Olivia, as I knew some of her family history. I made a promise.’
‘I don’t think we have the luxury of giving promises.’
‘I know that, but I needed her cooperation.’
‘You’re too kind-hearted. You know that?’
Farhan had not seen Isaac so angry before. ‘What would you have done?’ he asked.
‘I’m not the one who has been sleeping with a witness, am I?’
‘It wasn’t intended, but what would you have done with the two witnesses?’
‘Probably the same as you, but sleeping with one of them…’
‘You make it sound sordid.’
‘What was it, an easy lay? I realise that life must be difficult for you at the present moment with your wife and children not around, but sleeping with this woman. Next you’ll be telling me she lives at home with her parents, contributes to the rent money.’
‘She does.’
‘Good God, Farhan, how do I protect you!’ Isaac exclaimed. His anger was not levelled at Farhan for what he had done. Most men would have acted in the same manner, but he was a policeman, an upholder of the law, and here he was, sleeping with a prostitute who may have seen a murderer. It was indefensible. Isaac knew he should report it officially, but Farhan was too good a policeman, too good a person, to allow his career to be thrown away.
Richard Goddard had got him out of a couple of tricky situations in the past; maybe he could help. Farhan had hoped it could be kept between him and Isaac. Isaac explained it could not, and if the women were to be protected then Detective Superintendent Goddard was the best man.
Farhan relented, in part because he knew Isaac was right, but mainly because he wanted to protect the women, especially the one he loved. Her selling herself to help her get through her studies should have automatically condemned her. However, his years in the police service had made him realise that some people were good, while others were bad. Aisha, he knew, was good, as was Olivia. He hoped Detective Superintendent Goddard was good as well. He was not so sure about Marion Robertson. He would reserve judgement on her until she had been given the opportunity to mount a defence. He realised it was conditional on his being a serving policeman, and that was clearly in the balance.
***
Richard Goddard sat quietly while Farhan explained the situation about one of the
