Possibly then he could knock on the door. Hopefully, talk to her, calm her fears, and gain her confidence.
Bridget, as always, was pleased to see Wendy when she popped her head around the door. ‘What can I do for you?’ Some quick gossip and then down to work, a cup of tea in one hand, a biscuit in the other. Wendy knew the cost of assistance would be a pub lunch washed down with a couple of strong drinks.
‘The woman’s somewhere. We need to find her and soon.’
‘She could be in a hotel. Almost impossible to find,’ Bridget replied.
‘Let’s assume it’s not a hotel. Let’s work on the assumption it’s a property somewhere. We know where Williams lives; it’s not going to be there.’
‘Why?’ Bridget asked.
‘Too obvious. Besides, he needs somewhere to bring his women.’
‘Romancer, is he?’ Bridget, always eager for some salacious gossip.
‘Sugar daddy, more like.’
‘Flashes his money around?’
‘Ferrari. Gives them a good time. Mid-life crisis, although he should be past that by now.’
‘Sounds my kind of guy,’ Bridget joked.
‘Unfortunately, you’re not his kind of woman.’ They knew each other well enough for Wendy to tease her.
‘Mature and experienced?’
‘Your skirt’s not short enough for one thing.’
‘And my breasts are not pert and upright, just dangling.’
‘We both suffer from that complaint. Let’s get back to Williams.’
The joking over, both women focussed on the task. Wendy felt sure the woman was ensconced in a comfortable and secure property somewhere.
‘If she’s not at his house, then maybe he has other properties, flats he rents out. Can you find them?’ Wendy suggested.
‘I can search the records.’
The results of two hours’ searching and a pub lunch identified three properties: a house in Twickenham, a flat down near Canary Wharf, and another flat not far from Hackney. Wendy relayed the news to Isaac. She would check them the next day.
***
Isaac, severely angry with Farhan, did not mince his words. ‘How many times have you been told to keep away from this woman? If you’re seen, it’s the end of your career, mine as well. And what about our boss?’
‘You’re not going to tell him, are you?’
‘Not unless I have to,’ Isaac replied. It was good that their office was insulated so his voice didn’t travel. He was not a man given to anger, rarely a raised voice, but Farhan’s admission that he had met with Aisha again had upset him greatly.
He had gone out on a limb to protect Farhan. Even asked their boss the last time to keep it to a severe verbal reprimand, not to put anything in writing. What if it turned out that the woman was involved in the murder? Isaac shuddered at the thought of the repercussions.
He knew that Farhan had led a sheltered life; no seducing the willing females in his later years at school and then sowing his oats after a night down the pub. Farhan, he realised, was easy prey to an experienced woman with no inhibitions about initiating sexual congress.
‘How am I going to protect you?’ Isaac continued. ‘Look, you’re a good policeman, and we work well as a team, but meeting with this woman again? I thought we agreed that you were going to talk to her, ask her to leave the country.’
‘I did meet with her, but she wants to stay.’
‘They’ll find her eventually; you know that?’
‘We both know that.’
‘Both, do you mean you and her?’
‘Yes.’
‘This is going to end badly. She has to disappear if you want to protect her.’
‘She has just been involved in a prominent legal case. Only as the junior, but the man got off. She’s elated, she wants to stay.’
‘She may be the most brilliant legal mind in the country, but she’s also a prostitute – sold herself for sex. Do you think there is any chance for her? Her past history will surface. If not now, at some stage in the future. These things can’t stay hidden forever. She must know that.’
‘We both know that.’
‘Have you been sleeping with her again?’ Isaac asked, quickly adding, ‘Don’t tell me. It’s better if you don’t answer that question.’
‘She’s a smart woman; she had some ideas.’
‘You’ve been discussing the case with her?’
‘More like questioning.’
‘At least that’s acceptable. What did she have to say, your girlfriend?’ Isaac ventured some humour. Farhan chose not to respond.
‘We’re assuming that the murders and the disappearance of Marjorie Frobisher are related.’
‘What else do we have?’ Isaac asked.
‘According to Aisha, what if we are wrong? What if they are unrelated?’
‘It’s a possibility, but how do we ascertain that?’
‘Instead of trying to make the connection, we isolate them totally from each other.’
‘Sutherland’s death could be unrelated, but Sally Jenkins? Why would anyone kill her?’
‘Other than she knew something about the missing woman?’
‘I suppose so,’ Isaac replied.
‘What if there is no missing woman? How would we approach the case of Sally Jenkins?’ Farhan asked.
‘We would look for a motive; for someone who had a reason to want her dead.’
‘She wasn’t raped.’
‘And not a break-in that went wrong, judging by the condition of where she lived.’
‘So it must have been someone she knew,’ Isaac said.
‘DI Hill, the crime scene officer, is intimating that someone came in the front door; the break-in may have been a subterfuge.’
‘Only Richard Williams had a key.’
‘But why would he want to murder her? And, anyway, he was in bed with Linda Harris.’
‘She’s an unknown,’ Isaac admitted.
‘What do you mean? I know you have your suspicions, even took her out for a meal. What was your
