Despite the laugh, Holly sensed Vera’s anxiety. Was it because Connie was a spinster of a certain age and she felt some affinity for the woman? Was Vera hoping that people might look for her if she suddenly did a runner?
But at least chatting to Bolitho would give her an excuse to get away from her desk. ‘Doesn’t Josh Heslop spend time in Newcastle too?’
‘Aye, he does and he was a student there until recently. He and Lorna could have arranged to meet in the city away from prying eyes if they were having a fling. I’m not quite sure why they’d feel they had to keep that relationship secret, though, unless Lorna had that obsession to be in control of things again. Secrets are a sort of control, aren’t they?’ The boss paused, seemed to be thinking. ‘You’re right, though, Hol. We need to check. While you’re in the toon, talk to Heslop’s mates, the ones he claims can confirm he was partying on Friday night. I’ll forward the names and numbers he gave to me yesterday.’
So Holly drove back into the city that felt like home. As much as anywhere did. She parked close to the Quayside and watched the Tyne blown into waves, the reflection of the Sage Music Centre chopped and cut by the wind. The famous bridges. Then she turned her back to the river and made the short walk to the Live Theatre, the wind in her face.
It was early afternoon and a school party was watching a kids’ matinee, an adaptation by David Almond of one of his own novels. She’d loved the books as a child and was almost tempted into the auditorium. Music and children’s laughter seeped out. Holly stood by the box office, waited until a woman had bought a couple of tickets for the evening performance, then asked for Mark Bolitho.
‘I’m not sure if he’s free. Can somebody else help? If it’s about a role in the new show, you’ll have to arrange an audition through your agent.’
‘I’m not an actor.’ Holly showed her ID.
‘Oh, it’ll be about that terrible murder in his house out at Kirkhill. I’ll give him a ring.’ There was a whispered phone conversation, then the woman turned back. ‘He’ll be down in a minute.’
Mark took Holly into his office at the top of the building and made her coffee. There were posters for shows she’d been to see on the walls. A shelf full of plays and books about theatre. He was pleasant enough, but she sensed his impatience. The phone rang. He frowned but left it unanswered. ‘I really don’t think I can help you. I told you everything I know at the weekend. I am very busy.’
‘Has your wife called you since you left home?’
‘No,’ he said, ‘but I’ve just come out of a lunchtime planning meeting and I haven’t had a chance to check my phone.’
‘A woman called Constance Browne has disappeared. Lorna was driving her car the night she was murdered and we’re starting to get a little concerned.’
‘You think Lorna was killed by mistake? That they were after Connie Browne all the time?’
This had never occurred to Holly. It seemed unlikely – even in the dark a retired teacher couldn’t be mistaken for Lorna Falstone and the woman hadn’t been killed in the car – but it was something she might suggest as a possibility at the evening’s briefing. Vera liked her detectives to show initiative and Constance seemed to be the focus of her attention at the moment. ‘You know Miss Browne?’
‘Yes. Juliet’s very fond of her. She even invited her to our wedding. We hold occasional fund-raising events in the gardens – the church fete, that sort of thing – and Connie’s always one of the main movers. She seems to run every committee going in the village. I’ve talked to her recently about becoming involved in my theatre project. She’d make a brilliant volunteer and a kind of advocate in the village for my plans. She seemed very keen.’
‘What time did you get to the theatre this morning?’
‘Just before nine.’
‘According to your wife, you left home just after six.’ Holly felt awkward about the way the conversation was going, the inevitable tone of accusation in her voice. Mark Bolitho was an influential creative, at least here in the North-East. She couldn’t imagine him abducting an elderly woman, or helping her to flee from justice. ‘It wouldn’t take you three hours to get here.’
‘Of course not. I went to my flat first and dropped off some of my stuff. I’m staying there tonight. Then I had breakfast in the place close by. I’m a regular. They’ll remember me.’ He smiled at her, as if he understood the position that she was in. ‘Avocado on sourdough with a poached egg and a double espresso to kickstart the day. Always the same.’
‘We think Lorna Falstone came into Newcastle sometimes on the bus. We’re trying to find out what she did in the city, who she met. Are you sure she never came here?’
‘I told you, in Brockburn, I didn’t know her.’ His tone was frosty.
‘There are rumours in Kirkhill that the two of you were friendly.’
For a moment, Holly thought Bolitho was furious. He stared at her, his body still and tense. Then he threw back his head and laughed. ‘They believe I’m the father of her child? You do know that’s completely ridiculous.’
Holly wasn’t quite sure what else there was to say. She couldn’t accuse him of lying about a potential relationship with Lorna without any evidence at all. She remembered her last conversation with Karan and Dorothy. She’d asked them if Mark and Juliet were happy. Now
