‘No other concerns about her death?’
‘Of course there are! We’re all worried who’s next. Charles Sutherland has been murdered, so has Sally Jenkins. What about Marjorie Frobisher? Do you believe her to be dead?’
‘Jess, I’ve no idea.’ He did not elaborate that the missing woman had been seen a few days earlier.
‘These deaths and Marjorie Frobisher are all related, aren’t they?’ she asked. Isaac noticed that as lovely as she looked she was obviously feeling the strain. Was it Ian Stanley’s innuendoes? Was it a concern that maybe she could be targeted next? Did she know something she wasn’t telling him? he asked himself. He hoped it was not the latter.
‘It seems likely, but so far we’ve drawn a blank. We have ideas as to what the link may be, but it’s vague.’ Isaac felt he had spent long enough with her. Excusing himself – this time he managed to avoid the kiss – he left the production lot and headed back to his office.
***
Wendy could see that Bridget had raised more questions than answers. How would she be able to follow up on the mysterious person who had met Marjorie Frobisher at the railway station? It seemed an impossible situation. The cameras close to the station had given some clues, but cameras weren’t everywhere in the city. The best she could do was to retrace the steps of the missing soap opera star as she had exited the station. Maybe someone had seen something, remembered something. She realised her chances of success were slim, but sometimes something came out of it.
She had been good at tracking missing children in her early years with the police force by trying to think as they would. Maybe it could work this time. She wasn’t the sort of person to rush to Isaac Cook – understanding as he may be – and announce that she hadn’t a clue. No, she was determined that she was going to find this woman, dead or alive, and at the present moment, alive seemed to be a distinct possibility. Whether safe and comfortable in a hotel or a decent house, or in a situation of despair, she had no idea.
Isaac and Farhan continued to follow up on the events that had occurred since they had been assigned the case. Then it had been a missing woman, but now! Both were struggling with how to proceed.
Also, what about the child that had been adopted? Who knew the answer? And then there was the complication of Farhan sleeping with the prostitute, still in contact with her. Isaac had noticed the secretive messages and Skype on video. He knew she was a good-looking woman, but the young detective inspector was playing a dangerous game. If their boss found out, officially he may be required to pull him off the case.
Both had come in for criticism over the handling of the case: sometimes valid, at other times racially biased. Isaac knew full well that there were people within the confines of the building who would quite happily see them fail, even at the cost of a few unsolved murders. Isaac resolved he would protect Farhan, whatever the cost. And then he had his own problems. There he was sleeping with Sophie, wishing it was Jess O’Neill. Once, in a moment of passion, he had whispered her name into Sophie’s ear; not that she minded – at least, that was what she had said. Isaac hadn’t been so sure, though.
Sophie had always proclaimed that it was casual sex, no strings attached, no exclusivity, but he knew enough of the world to know that women are not wired that way. They see love when there is none, reject exclusivity and profess free choice, but only say it for the man’s benefit, hoping the man is wise enough to realise that what the woman really wants is exclusivity and no free choice.
The situation, both professional and personal, was becoming untenable for both men. There were just too many loose ends, and the mysterious offspring of a promiscuous woman and someone of great influence in the country seemed to be the loosest end. It was crucial to find out who the person was, but there was no obvious candidate. And Richard Goddard was keeping his distance. Isaac assumed it was to do with the upcoming promotions within senior management. He realised that his boss was desperate for an elevation, and unsolved murders didn’t help.
Isaac did not like it one bit. Both he and Farhan were now carrying guns. In all his years with the Metropolitan Police, he had never once felt the need to arm himself. Of course, like all policemen he had the benefit of training and was always aware that a situation may arise when a weapon was required.
***
Isaac was sure of another long night when he met up again with Farhan in the office. Farhan had been out at the hotel checking on who had told the journalist about the prostitutes. Isaac suspected that he had also been meeting with the Indian woman; the other escort had apparently disappeared. Farhan knew where she was, he had told Isaac that much. Isaac had let the matter rest there and decided not to pursue it further. He realised that if it were important, Farhan would tell him.
The British press had finally descended on Olivia’s house, to find the doors locked tight, and the neighbours bemused by the microphones thrust in their faces and the questions relating to their neighbour, Caroline Danvers. Most had said she was well-respected in the community.
Mrs Edgecombe, seventies, a little hard of hearing, and pleased at the attention, stated categorically that she had always thought something was not quite right. The press had latched on to her for a couple of days, but realised
