The look of a recently separated man, she thought. She thought back to ten years previously, to a rough patch in her marriage when she had moved out of the marital home. It had only been for three weeks before he apologised and she had forgiven him. She nearly left again on entering the front door of the house. The dirty dishes in the kitchen sink were disgusting, the waste paper bin was overflowing, the washing machine refused to work due to severe overloading and the place stank.
It had taken her two days to clean up the mess, two days when she could have easily have walked out of the door again. She finally calmed down, but the anger remained for months, tense months, where they barely spoke to each other.
‘Luck! Good old-fashioned police work. Out on the street, talking to people.’ She could sometimes be acerbic. How many times, when she had found a missing person, had she heard the word ‘luck’ mentioned.
It wasn’t luck that had found the café; it was a case of placing herself in the right environment. The rain had helped and directed her towards the café, but if it had not, she would have kept walking the area, asking questions. Eventually, she would have stumbled upon the waitress, although it could have been days, maybe weeks. She was pleased it had been sooner rather than later, as her arthritis was giving her trouble, even though she had not walked far the previous day.
‘Wendy, please continue,’ Isaac said. He had worked with her before, knew she could be a bit touchy – the reason why he had not broached the subject of the stale cigarette smell.
He was aware that it would lead to a lecture about civil liberties, freedom for a person to decide whether they were damaging their health or not.
‘She knew the person she met,’ Wendy said. ‘The waitress confirmed it was Richard Williams from a photo that I showed her the next day.’
‘He knows that obstructing the course of justice, especially in a murder investigation, is a serious offence. His fancy Queen’s Counsel will not be able to protect him.’
‘I’ve not met Richard Williams. Is he the sort of person to risk imprisonment?’ Wendy asked.
‘Not at all,’ Isaac replied. ‘He’s a sharp operator. If he is protecting Marjorie Frobisher, there must be a reason.’
‘But meeting in London? Surely they realised the possibility of being seen. We’re not the only ones looking for her,’ Farhan speculated.
‘Maybe they’re not thinking straight. Maybe the woman is irrational. The waitress said she didn’t say much. Williams may have been compromised into helping.’
‘I agree with Wendy,’ Isaac said. ‘We’re aware of the special relationship between the two of them.’
‘It’s up to you, Isaac,’ Farhan said.
‘I need to go and see him. It would help if Wendy keeps checking, tries to find out where she is.’
‘I’ll start on it tomorrow,’ Wendy said, glad to be out of the office again. She only hoped a long soak in a warm bath and some medicine would reduce the pain in her legs.
***
Isaac felt his time the following morning would be best spent with Richard Goddard. He had set up a meeting for nine o’clock. He sensed that his superior officer was not looking forward to a visit, but it was important.
At 9 a.m. Isaac was outside his senior’s office. Ten minutes later, Goddard appeared. As he was a man who was a stickler for punctuality, it seemed odd to Isaac. He chose to make no comment.
‘What is it, Isaac?’ There had been none of the customary ‘sit down for a chat’ welcome. Isaac was disturbed. He had not seen his boss like this before, and they had worked together for some years.
‘Marjorie Frobisher.’
‘Have you found her?’
‘We think she’s alive.’
‘But have you found her?’
‘Not yet. Soon, I imagine.’
‘It would have been best if she had stayed missing. Isaac. It’s become complicated.’
Isaac chose another line of questioning. ‘Is there anyone else looking for her currently?’
‘Why do you ask? You and DI Ahmed had people following you at one time. Is that still occurring?’
‘We’ve not seen them for some time, but I still feel they’re watching us.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘I suspect someone’s been planted.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘A woman working with Richard Williams may be more than she seems.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘She’s smarter than she pretends to be; definitely not the sort of woman Williams would typically employ.’
‘Attractive?’
‘Very.’
‘There’s your answer. He chooses them attractive, easy to lay. That’s what your reports have indicated.’
‘She doesn’t seem the type that would be an easy lay, certainly not for Williams.’
‘Is he sleeping with her?’
‘Apparently. She gave him a cast-iron alibi when Sally Jenkins was murdered.’
‘And you think she’s a plant? Do you fancy her?’
‘A plant, it’s possible. Fancy her? I suppose I do, but I’ve kept my distance.’
‘Are you still protecting that other woman?’
‘If you mean Jess O’Neill, I’ve kept my distance, at least until this case is resolved.’
‘Make sure it stays that way. This is becoming too complicated, and no one knows why.’
Isaac still felt that his boss knew more than he did. It seemed critical for him and Farhan to know as much, but how? If their boss did not want to tell them, there wasn’t much that he could do to prise it out of him. He decided to try again.
‘Sir, I need to know. We’re chasing around after a woman who is directly or indirectly related to the deaths of two people. What if there is another murder? A murder we could have prevented with additional knowledge.’
‘I understand what you’re saying.’
‘We need to meet Angus MacTavish,’ Isaac
